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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185138">A Beginners Guide to Exploiting the Kaedweni Tax Code For Fun and Profit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem'>Heronfem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Background Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier, Background Relationships, Childhood Trauma, Demisexual Nonbinary Lambert, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Humor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Continent, Nonverbal Communication, Recovery, References to Addiction, Relationship Negotiation, loving family, only for Aiden Lambert and Jaskeir tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:21:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>108,135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden Kett and Lambert Wilkson accidentally get married, and this is honestly probably the least of their problems. </p><p>Featuring, in no particular order: technically not tax fraud from a legal standpoint but definitely tax fraud from an emotional standpoint, gender noncompliance, what do you mean you're moving in together, Geralt of Rivia as a professional horse girl, goats, an egregious amount of snark, a lot of take out food, licensed monster management in leather pants, Aiden's massive competency kink, found family, a great deal of love in the face of mental health struggles, and kittens. </p><p>Maybe no one in this family had a good childhood, but they'll be damned if they won't fight for a happily ever after.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>545</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>389</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I would tag for the full range of human emotion but I'm not quite certain how to label that so here we are. </p><p>A few notes: Lambert is he/him nonbinary, Geralt has never once heard of a gender and would politely give it back if offered one, and Vesemir's gender is "mind your own business". All of the characters in this story have had hard childhoods, which will come up from time to time as they work through them, but this is overall a pretty happy story and the worst is behind them. All chapters will be tagged with appropriate warnings for things that may be upsetting, and if you've read a chapter and feel something needs to be added, please mention it in the comments. </p><p>Please enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for blackout drinking and mentions of vomit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day that Lambert Wilkson’s life went directly to shit was surprisingly good, all things considered. The sun was shining, the grass was green, and the University of Northern Kaedwen was winding down for the day so the sidewalks were clear and easy to navigate. The campus was sprawling, with a horrific amount of hills and buildings scattered all over the place from various eras of construction. Lambert was on his way from the ultra sleek and modern Physics building and passing the one that held most of the classrooms for the music department when a man burst through a pair of double doors, careened down some stairs, looked wildly around, and pointed a finger squarely at him. </p><p>“You!” </p><p>Lambert did a quick search through his brain to see if this person was at all familiar and/or was someone he owed money to and came up completely blank. He was handsome, probably a few inches shorter than Lambert if he wasn’t wearing such ridiculous high heeled boots, with an elegant arched nose, golden-brown skin, dark eyes with massively long lashes, and brown hair in wavy curls barely touching his shoulders. He looked about Lambert’s age.</p><p>“Me,” he decided, stopping to see what this was about. The man jogged over, and Lambert tried to decide how he was going to incapacitate him if this came to a fight. </p><p>It didn’t, because the man skidded to a halt in front of him and held up a fifty, saying, “I’ll pay you 50 crowns if you’ll give me a half hour of time and your body to do with as I please.” </p><p>Lambert considered this for approximately two seconds before snatching the fifty out of his hands. “Sure. I insist on condoms, though, and a name wouldn’t hurt.” </p><p>The man blinked. “What?” </p><p>Lambert waited for him to get it, and was rewarded with a squawk as the man realized what he’d said and buried his face in his hands. Lambert cackled, grinning, and the man peeked through his fingers. A blush wouldn’t show with his skin tone, but oh, he certainly seemed plenty flustered. </p><p>“I need you to stand in so we can get the right lighting for a student film,” he said miserably. “We just need you to read some things and stand there so we can get the lighting right, and you're the same height and look a bit like our lead. I’m Aiden, by the way.” </p><p>Lambert snickered, feeling very pleased with himself, and gestured for him to lead on. It was an easy joke, and while Lambert had got no great sexual feelings one way or the other about most people, it was fun to watch people get flustered. “Lambert. Let’s go.” </p><p>Said student film was being shot on the stage, which was made up to look like a relatively convincing highly stylized church scene. A number of harried looking people were wandering around doing serious theater things with lights and pulleys, and someone was nearly in tears as they furiously scrubbed at a red blotch on an unbelievably massive potted plant’s pot. There was also a very stoned and lanky man in what looked like the robes of a Nilfgaardian Sun Priest, who grinned sleepily at Aiden. </p><p>“Oh, you found Reggie.” </p><p>“No, he’s just the same height and looks about the same,” Aiden told him, and grabbed Lambert’s shoulder to hold himself steady as he kicked up one foot and then the other to pull off his boots. Out of them, he stood a good three inches shorter, and Lambert grinned. Vain, hilarious. It’s not like he was short to start with, 5’9” wasn’t that little even against Lambert's 6 feet of height. “This is Lambert. And honestly, I don’t care, he could be a three hundred pound rugby player and neon green, so long as we get the lights in the right place. Him being the right skin tone and weight is just a bonus.” </p><p>Someone stumped by with a headset on, and muttered, “I’m going to <em>kill</em> Reginald, I told that rat bastard he had to be here for the whole thing, see if I give him a good review-” and continued stumping. </p><p>“The director,” Aiden explained, and tossed his boots on a pew. “I’m standing in for Cathleen, who is, as you might have guessed, pretty tall, so we’re getting married today.” </p><p>“Fantastic, my brothers will be thrilled I’ve found someone legally required to put up with my bullshit,” Lambert said, and Aiden grinned, grabbing a pair of scripts from another pew. </p><p>“Lucky you, you just have to stand there and look pretty while I come down the aisle,” Aiden said, directing him to a blue X of tape. “I come down the line, Jixton-” </p><p>Lambert turned a disbelieving eye onto the Sun Priest, who grinned and waved. </p><p>“- Will read off his bit, we exchange vows, we’re handfasted in the sight of the sun-” Aiden squinted at his watch, “So long as we get this done in the next 20 minutes, at least. And then we sign the registry, and then there’s the kiss.” </p><p>Lambert nodded. “Great, straightforward, just the way I like it. One question.” </p><p>Aiden looked up from his script, reaching up to absently shove his curls back out of his face. Lambert wondered how his hair got to be so shiny and healthy looking, his was a disaster any day of the week ending in y. “Yes?” </p><p>“What’s the weird student film part?” </p><p>Aiden grinned, wide and a little malicious. “The entire thing is done with screeching symphonic music in the background, and the costumes are, uh.” </p><p>A girl with very messy bun and a shirt that said <em>fuck around and find out</em> on it stuck her head through the plant. “The costumes are representative of the oppressive cultural milieu of the late 1200’s following the grandiose nightmare of the Empire’s might coming down to bear like a mother on the untamed North. No, I am not joking, and yes, I had to design around that.” She vanished back into the bush. </p><p>“Amazing,” Lambert said, delighted. “I want a copy when this is done.” </p><p>“<em>Sold</em>, sir, to the man with the fantastic biceps,” Jixton giggled, and Aiden laughed as he cupped his hands around his mouth to yell for the lighting crew. </p><p>The lighting people rushed out of the woodwork like cockroaches and started frantically doing things with weird instruments, holding them up in the lights and calling numbers and arranging big square lights that nearly blinded Lambert into a more reasonable array. Presumably more reasonable, at least. What with them being film students, his hopes weren’t very high. </p><p>There were a series of yells, someone got the camera going, and the director hopped into the chair to watch. </p><p>“I’m not expecting this to be good,” she said, sounding very tired, “I just want a grade and to get the fuck out of here, at this point, I <em>knew</em> I should have gone less art house…”</p><p>Aiden grinned at him, walking up the aisle to hit his mark and turning. Jixton spread his arms, and Lambert just about jumped out of his skin when Jixton began in deep, sonorous tones, “In the light of the Sun we are gathered in this place to consecrate the union of-” the tone dropped. “Sorry, what’s your last name again?” </p><p>“Wilkson,” Lambert said, snorting. “What, not using the character names?” </p><p>“Nah.” Jixton threw his arms out wide again and the sonorous tones returned. “In the light of the Sun we are gathered in this place to consecrate the union of Aiden Kett and Lambert Wilkson, blessed children of the light, and bind them til the sun fails and the stars themselves weep and fall from the sky.” </p><p>Lambert’s mouth started twitching as he tried his best to hold in a laugh. Aiden kicked him, lightly, and he straightened his back and looked dead ahead. </p><p>“Glorious praise we raise to the sun, who guides our steps in the day and gives the moon her shine at night, that we might walk through shadowed places without fear or shame, that we might rise and rest knowing we are beloved. All things under the Sun bear love. All things under the Sun have heart and soul worth glory.” Jixton paused, clearing his throat. “Mm, need a cough drop before we do this for real. Right.” More sonorous voice. “Today we bind you together so others might know of the love you share, and that the Sun may see you walk the paths of the world together, sharing in your struggles and triumph.” He switched to Elder, and Lambert tuned out as he listened to him half sing, half speak some sort of lilting poem for the binding ritual. </p><p>When it came to an end, Aiden held out his right hand for Lambert to take, and Lambert took it with his own right. There was a pause. </p><p>“Oh, shit, right,” one of the stage hands said, and ran up with a long piece of cheap lace trim. “Can’t use the real one and all that, here’s this.” </p><p>She handed it to Jixton, who lifted it and offered a few words in Elder before looping it around their joined hands. Aiden caught Lambert’s confused look and explained as Jixton did up the knots, “In the Sun’s tradition, it’s not permitted to use anything for handfasting twice, not even for rehearsals. Jixton’s an actual priest, so this one’s ours to keep forever.” </p><p>“What, like a Priest priest?” Lambert asked, startled. </p><p>“Yeah man,” Jixton said brightly. “I’m the new campus chaplain, they shipped me off up here because the only people on campus who follow the Sun are like, chill with everything I’m up to, and I wanted a degree anyway.” </p><p>Lambert blinked. “Can you get laid?” </p><p>“Oh fuck yeah, man, sex is a glory to the Sun, especially on holy days, we get down,” Jixton agreed amiably, and finished the knots. “Okay! Vows time!” </p><p>Aiden checked his script, squinting. “Uh… Okay, found it, sorry.” He cleared his throat, holding up the pages as he read from them. His voice was rich and soothing, soft as it filled the room and made everyone go still. “Make me unto thee a resting place, a hallowed place, a hollow in the heart to be filled with light and glory. Spin me my songs into longing, until I know you by lungfuls of breath, until I am fresh in my knowing, until I am spring come sprung into being, green life and growing things. Find me thither in still waters, find me yon on the path we may walk. Lead me forward, follow where I climb, and know forever I am thine.” </p><p>There was an incredible pause for a moment. </p><p>“You,” Lambert said, impressed, “have a fantastic voice. Very dramatic.” </p><p>“Thanks!” Aiden beamed at him, very pleased. “I’ve learned how to project.”</p><p>Lambert looked down at his own page, holding it up like Aiden had. </p><p>“Fuck, where… ah. What more can I ask,” he began, and the room went quiet again. He swallowed, self conscious, and barreled on. “What more can I ask, than to be with you where you stride? What more can I give you that you have not given me, when my heart was empty and you filled it entire? I have found myself with you in still waters, I have pulled you upwards from valleys and streams. We are set on the path, we must fulfil it, but I find myself fulfilled in you-” he paused slightly to wiggle his eyebrows at Aiden, who cackled with laughter, before continuing, “- and beg you to pull me free from mountain glens and make me hallowed and hollow in return. I will not leave your heart wanting; all I ask is you not leave mine bare.” </p><p>Jixton threw his arms wide again, bringing them together hard in a clap so loud it was near thunder. Lambert did jump that time, startled, and Aiden just grinned and squeezed their joined hands. “Light and honor follow you all of your days. Walk your paths together in kindness and love, and learn what it is to learn each day the new diamond facets of your hearts as they beat together in time. May sunlight find you where it is needed, may moonlight guide your steps in the darkness, may the stars themselves fall to cradle you and carry you safely away to find each other’s steps.” </p><p>He pulled a sheaf of paper forward, and Lambert raised an eyebrow. “Is that a legal document?” </p><p>Aiden squinted at it. “Eh, probably not. Don’t you have to buy one of those? Like, give them money to register shit like that?” </p><p>“Probably,” Lambert agreed. “This is the bit where we sign?” </p><p>“Yep.” </p><p>Jixton had already signed his own name and titling, with appropriate flourishes, and there were two more spaces for the partnering pair’s names to go. Lambert fished a pen out of his pocket and signed his own name, because honestly why not, and dated it before passing it over to Aiden. He blinked when he realized what they’d done. </p><p>“We’re both left handed,” he said, and Aiden paused, looking at their joined right hands and then at the paper. </p><p>“Oh, shit, I didn’t even think about that,” he said, frowning. “Cathleen’s right handed, she’ll need to rehearse that.” </p><p>“Sucks to be her,” Lambert said mildly, and Aiden grinned as some of the crew laughed. “Not that well liked, I take it?” </p><p>Aiden just smiled as Jixton rolled up the paper and tied it shut, sealing it with wax and pressing the actual holy stamp of the Children of the Sun on it. It vanished back into his robes, and then Jixton frowned. </p><p>“We forgot about the rings,” he called, and someone came running up with a massive box of costume jewelry, sorting through it. </p><p>“Any idea what size you two are in rings?” she asked, looking harried. </p><p>“Size 12,” Aiden said promptly, and eyed Lambert’s hands. “He’s probably-” </p><p>“Size 10,” Lambert growled, “and there’s no way you wear a 12, your fingers are so skinny!” </p><p>“No,” Aiden corrected, wiggling them. “They’re long. It’s an optical illusion. I’ve got huge hands, finding gloves is impossible.” </p><p>The costume designer triumphantly retrieved two silver rings that looked to be actual sterling silver instead of just cheap prop plastic, and handed them off to Jixton, who said some words in Elder and then had Aiden lift his hand to take Lambert’s ring- Honestly very nice, two flat edges with a curved central channel for a bit of depth- and slide it on his ring finger. It fit perfectly. Aiden’s went to Lambert, and he carefully slid it on for a perfect fit as well. It was also nice, with a flat edge and three thin channels around it for a bit of texture. Simple, but elegant. Honestly, they were the sort of thing Lambert might get for himself. </p><p>“Walk forever knowing there is love in the light of the Sun, and love in your hearts from this day,” Jixton intoned. He dropped the sonorous voice again, and grinned at them. “Kiss already, I gotta take a leak.” </p><p>Lambert laughed, and Aiden whooped as he pulled him in by their joined hands up against his chest and grinned. Aiden’s eyes went comically wide, and Lambert gave him the tiniest eyebrow raise and got a tiny nod in return before he bent Aiden in a dip, hand coming up to support his back as he kissed him. He made it as filthy as he could (and fuck you, Eskel, he may not get around much but he <em>learns</em>), and Aiden gave back as good as he got to riotous whistles and applause. When Lambert let him back up he was very frazzled and a little breathless. </p><p>“Damn,” he said, approving and breathing a bit hard, hand coming up to rest lightly on Lambert’s chest. “Alright then. Congratulations, Lambert Wilkson, your body is free, you have <em>more</em> than earned your 50 crowns.” </p><p>“Mmm, think I wanna hyphenate. Wilkson-Kett sounds pretentious enough to get me some good interviews at grad school,” Lambert said, gently letting him go. “Can I keep the lace and ring as a souvenir?” </p><p>Aiden laughed, nodding, and helped him undo the cheap lace. “Before you go, can I get your number? You should come to the premiere, we’ll be done by next week and we all go out for crew drinks after.” </p><p>“Oh, fuck yes,” Lambert said, thrilled, and handed over his phone as he put the lace in his pocket.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>bro what the fuck is fermenting in my fridge<br/>i was gone for like two days<br/>and i come back to this bullshit<p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
fuck you i’m testing a new recipe</p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
that is not in any way shape or form what i asked, lamb<br/>
what is this? </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
tasty, that’s what.<br/>
I think i made a friend today </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
??????? </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
Yeah he paid me 50 crowns for free use of my body for 30 minutes<br/>
so i got married for a video<br/>
anyway he asked for my number and invited me to drinks so i think that’s a friend</p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
I genuinely cannot tell if you’re fucking with me right now </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
Fuck off<br/>
Also leave my experiments alone, and feed your sourdough starter before it starves you heathen.</p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
GET YOUR EXPERIMENTS OUT OF MY FRIDGE<br/>
YOU HAVE YOUR OWN APARTMENT</p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
yeah but your fridge has better temperature consistency</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>i hpe u usd condoms<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
I hope you learn how to text some time this century, fucks sake<br/>
and I’m going to strangle Eskel for being a nosey gossip</p><p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
(:</p><p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
fuck that’s so ominous knock it off</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Husband<br/>Heeeeey Lambert<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
hi<br/>
what is it</p><p>Text from: Husband<br/>
I just realized I don’t know all that much about you<br/>
we married so young babe<br/>
i need to know the REAL YOU~~~</p><p>Text to: Husband<br/>
lmao you’re a mess </p><p>Text from: Husband<br/>
You are extremely correct on that front<br/>
so i’m in Theater, emphasis on stage design and choreography with a minor in history<br/>
i’m 23 and i’m absolutely supposed to be graduated by now but i can’t get into a class i need yet<br/>
I do not like long walks in the rain but i do like climbing trees </p><p>Text to: Husband<br/>
Double majoring in Applied Physics and Chem, minors in Philosophy and Linguistics<br/>
22, graduating in the Spring unless shit falls apart<br/>
rain is overrated if youre out in it, trees are great</p><p>Text from: Husband<br/>
holy shit<br/>
i married a brain<br/>
i’m gonna be a trophy husband</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Aiden reminded him via their usual constant text conversation two days before the student film festival he was welcome to come if he smuggled in booze for them to chug while they sat through the mess that was sure to be set before them, and also that the dress code was “student filmmaker” so come in whatever he wanted, if he was coming at all. Lambert responded that nothing could make him miss this, not even Professor Vilbao’s gods be damned grading system.<p>Lambert didn’t exactly make friends easily, but Aiden was easy to talk to, and funny, and… nice. Just really nice. </p><p>Lambert considered his closet as he poured White Gull Vodka into three different flasks, and decided it was high time he went back to basics with his wardrobe since he’d been too busy to even breathe, let alone think about fashion. Really, he was letting the whole side down. He needed to get back into looking less like a frazzled double major and more like the human embodiment of Chaos if he intended to get any respect in this place back.</p><p>It was incredibly reassuring to see someone choke on a canape when Lambert waltzed in dressed in full punk-goes-opera regalia, and he pounded them on the back before going to find his friend and steal a program from someone. </p><p>He spotted Aiden in a sporty blazer and what were very definitely leather pants just finishing a conversation with a weedy little thing that looked to be one of the directors, and strolled up to stop alongside him and offer a flask as the other person took off.  </p><p>Aiden took it, glanced at him and did a double take. “Damn, you clean up nice,” he said, eyes going wide. </p><p>“Mm,” Lambert agreed, grinning. “Boots might have been overkill.” </p><p>“I assure you they are <em>not</em>,” Aiden said faintly, and Lambert preened a little. </p><p>“Been a while since I could go all out,” he said simply, and Aiden made a vague, choked noise as he twitched the skirt of his gown a little. </p><p>The gown <em>was</em> a little over the top, but it was his coming out gown and he hadn’t had an excuse to wear it in ages, and he looked fucking great in it. It had just the one shoulder, was fitted tight on the torso and falling into the skirt in massive black sheets of floaty material that never quite seemed to hold still even when he was just standing there. It was also slit to the mid thigh down the sides, the better to show off the knee high black buckled boots and the sleek black garters above them. Over that all was his favorite leather jacket, thoroughly decorated with enough spikes and patches that even Eskel approved. Pairing all of that were his nicest pair of skull earrings and a very dark plum lip stain and very crisped winged eyeliner. </p><p>Aiden took way too much of a drink of the White Gull, choked, and handed him the flask back as Lambert patted him cheerily on the back. </p><p>“You trying to kill me, Mr. Wilkson-Kett?” Aiden finally choked out. </p><p>“Not until after dinner, at least, I’m hungry,” Lambert said casually. “Where’s the buffet?” </p><p>And that, frankly, was the last thing that he really <em>coherently</em> remembered, because he took at least one shot of White Gull at the buffet table, and he had some vague memories of being deeply horrified into silence by the massively weird movies they watched, and then another shot, and it all came back to a big black hole when he opened his eyes blearily and found himself in his bed, shoes kicked off but gown still very much on, with Aiden snoring merrily next to him and the worst hangover he had ever had. He made it to the bathroom before he could be sick on his bedmate, rummaged under the sink for the emergency bottle of water and pain meds he kept there, and then slowly managed to get back to his room to peel off his gown and find his phone. </p><p>He had the dress hung up and his most comfortable sweatpants on by the time he found his phone inside one of his shoes, and unlocked it to squint at his messages. He had a string of texts from Eskel, one from Geralt, three from a contact that’s just a keysmash, a worrying number of notifications from social media, and- he stared in trepidation- an email from Vesemir. </p><p>Social media first, then. </p><p>He stumbled out to the main room to start cooking breakfast and fished out the frozen blocks of coffee he kept in the freezer for just such emergencies while he started picking the pieces together and flipped on the coffee pot. Snapchat was something he only used with Jaskier, and he was mildly horrified to find that Jaskier had just sent him, “HAHAHAHA” in all caps five times. He had a meticulously crafted instagram that was exclusively pictures of sad cigarette butts and fat squirrels, and apparently made his first story last night. </p><p>“Fuck,” he sighed, and opened it. </p><p>The first video was being shot by someone else, because it was him chasing Aiden to get his jacket back and Aiden scrambling up a tree to laugh at him. Second video was much the same, only this time Aiden had somehow got his hands on a very cheap plastic crown, and Lambert was yelling something about the fake ass divine right of kings. Up into a tree Aiden went, again. Third video was being shot by Aiden, because it was Lambert doing a line of shots with Jixton, of all people, in a very seedy looking bar. </p><p>And then, </p><p>“Oooh, fuck,” Lambert muttered, eyes going a little wide as he watched the picture show up of him very clearly wasted throwing a peace sign at the camera from the front step of the Chantry of The Sun. “Not good, not good… what did you do, you idiot?”</p><p>The answer was apparently yet more shots with a man of the cloth, and also Aiden, and also it then turned into a party, and oh fuck he really hoped that <em>wasn’t</em> fisstech on the table of the fucking Priest’s office, then- </p><p>A picture, slightly blurry, of him writing something very carefully. The caption just read ‘buot tiimmm’ which was thoroughly unhelpful. The next picture was him and Aiden leaning on each other and on one of the bright red Kaedweni mailboxes, looking very pleased with themselves.  Then it was Aiden sitting smushed up against Lambert with the dozy, helpless smile of the thoroughly wasted in the next picture, presumably taken in a cab because they definitely weren’t driving. </p><p>The last was Aiden throwing a peace sign at the camera with the caption ‘fcial biches’ from Lambert’s bed as Lambert clearly struggled to get his boots off in the background, again not helpful. </p><p>The coffee pot clicked off. Lambert poured himself a mug, dropped the iced coffee cubes in, and shoved a piece of bread in his mouth before opening the email from Vesemir. Thankfully, it was innocuous, just a forwarded message about something to do with his registration renewal for his motorcycle. Which left… </p><p>Geralt first. </p><p>He opened the message. </p><p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
Hve fun be sffe call if ride need pls</p><p>There was a picture above this message, one of Lambert making a face at Aiden as Aiden was clearly enthusiastically shouting something, all big eyes and sincerity. Lambert had no idea who took it, because it was from a distance across the room at the screenings, Lambert’s legs spread wide and the skirt falling prettily down to reveal his boots in a very appealing way. Damn, he needed more excuses to wear that dress.</p><p>“Oookay,” Lambert muttered, and opened Eskel’s texts. He'd sent Eskel the same picture, apparently.</p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
I don’t know what the hell is going on here but you look good<br/>
10/10 choice of lipstick </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
s aiden<br/>
who had<br/>
50 </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
Ooooooh boy little man, you are already wasted as fuck </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
(:</p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
don’t give me that face that’s a geralt face<br/>
you two can’t gang up on me i’ll die<br/>
Please do not do anything stupid enough to warrant bail </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
(: </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
Really reassuring me here, Lamb. </p><p>The next text after that was just late at night telling him to get home safe, and Lambert put down the phone with a sigh of relief. Fantastic. Whatever bullshit he did, probably only Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier knew the whole of it, and that was only <em>if</em> he’d been coherent enough to talk to Jaskier. Six months ago he would have been worried that Jaskier might have been at the same party, but then, six months ago was when Geralt got Ciri and now the only thing that got Jaskier out of the house after dark was emergency grocery runs or drives to calm down an overwhelmed Geralt. </p><p>Which was not necessarily a bad thing. Jaskier had calmed down tremendously since meeting Geralt and Yennefer, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to how fucking feral he got at times. It was impressive. Lambert was impressed. He genuinely had no idea how someone handled teaching music theory, working on a masters, and raising a child at the tender age of 21 and did not fucking want to know. </p><p>So, he hadn’t done anything too stupid, it seemed, and his wallet was on the table. He picked it up, checking to see his ID still safely there. The 50 he’d been carrying since Aiden gave it to him was gone, which wasn’t exactly weird for a night of partying, but the fact that all of his stamps were missing was. He always carried a sheet of them, just to be safe, because he was nothing if not a proper Wilderness Scout (fuck you, Rogir Basrason, choke and die, Scouts was miserable). </p><p>He turned the wallet around and checked the small hidden pocket, just to check, but they were all gone. </p><p>Weird. </p><p>He was halfway through his coffee and had choked down several eggs and more bread than he wanted to think about before Aiden stumbled into the kitchen looking very worse for wear. He flopped onto a stool and made grabby hands at the coffee pot, and Lambert poured him a very tall mug and dropped more of the frozen coffee in. </p><p>Aiden groaned, gingerly holding his head as he slowly drank, and Lambert fished out more painkillers for him to take before carefully setting out food. </p><p>“Time’s it?” Aiden mumbled, and Lambert checked his phone. </p><p>“11,” he mumbled back, sound still making his head throb. Aiden whined, head falling forward almost into his eggs, and slowly began to eat. </p><p>Lambert had almost managed to start feeling like a human being before he remembered the weird keysmash text, and pulled it up out of curiosity. It was just a picture, him and Aiden on a couch with Aiden sitting sideways on his lap with his arms around Lambert’s neck to stay upright, Lambert’s legs sprawled casually wide and a beer bottle hanging in his hand as he listened with open fascination. </p><p>He saved the picture. </p><p>They were more or less back to full function by 4 in the afternoon, following another nap in Lambert’s bed that wound up with Aiden flopped over his chest like a lightly fuzzed and reassuring blanket while snoring like a chainsaw, and a lot of ordered in food. About that point, the stamps started to bother him. </p><p>“Were you missing anything from your wallet this morning?” he asked, and Aiden looked up from where he’d been sprawled across the mattress. </p><p>“Just 25 hard earned crowns, but I expected that.” </p><p>“Hmm,” Lambert said, and let it drop. </p><p>At least, he let it drop for two days, which was when he got a call from the Kaedwen North-West Regional Courthouse looking for a Lambert Wilkson, because the Region only needed 35 crowns to list his marriage on the records, and Lambert Wilkson had been so kind as to send them 50, in an envelope covered in way more stamps than he needed to, and did he want to send the 15 crowns to the office that handled name changes?</p><p>Lambert quietly hung up the phone, sat down on his bed, and screamed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I would like to one day be smart and funny enough to write Lambert on the level that tnico does but for now take this offering, and if you like having your heart in wonderful delicious agony pls check out Anoke's work because I Am Deceased every time I read it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for: Discussions of teenage homelessness, discussion of unhappy foster family situations.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Lambert a good half an hour before he really stopped screaming, and when he did the horror and reality of his situation sunk in with alarming speed. He was married, therefore, he needed a divorce. There was no way in any world that Aiden would genuinely want to be married to him, not the least of which reason being why the <em>fuck</em> would anyone want to be married to Lambert? He was an asshole and he knew it, and he was a fucked up person to start with, between the shit childhood and the miserable teenage years and the complete lack of real social life in college. </p>
<p>Lambert realized he was staring blankly at his bedroom door and levered himself up, moving on autopilot as he started tidying his room. It was a holdover from life with Vesemir, who’d drilled it into him that moving meditation was just as good for fixing the brain as sitting there and thinking, and after that you had a clean house too. </p>
<p>Aiden was going to kill him, he thought as he piled his laundry in a basket. He was going to kill him, and then laugh about it, because what the actual fuck, honestly. Even though this was mostly Aiden’s fault. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Lambert said, and went to start a load of laundry. </p>
<p>Once that was started he found his laptop and started searching for ways to get divorced in Kaedwen, only to pause when he saw an article header. </p>
<p><em>Kaedweni Divorce Rates Lower with Tax Changes</em>. </p>
<p>Curious, he clicked on it. </p>
<p>Two hours later, he pulled open the door to reveal Aiden’s confused face and said, “You will not <em>believe</em> how much tax fraud we can legally commit.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>“So,” Aiden said, with an incredible amount of calm for someone who had just had a meteor dropped on his life. He took a fortifying drink of coffee. “Let me see if I get this right.”<p>Lambert, sitting across from him at his ragged kitchen table in his newly spotless house, nodded. </p>
<p>“Because Jixton was a legal Priest of the Sun, and we were actually married under the light of the Sun since it was still day, and we signed all of the actual legal documents with our own names of our own volition, and we then sent it in with the appropriate funds attached, we are now legally wed,” Aiden said, still very calm. He seemed to have reached a state of serenity. “And our marriage is registered in Kaedwen, so we are extra officially legally wed.” </p>
<p>Lambert nodded. “Yep.” </p>
<p>Aiden took another drink. “And you want us to stay married for the tax benefits?” </p>
<p>Lambert pulled up his laptop from where it was waiting on one of the extra chairs, and opened the slideshow presentation he had made. Aiden’s lips twitched. </p>
<p>“Reasons for staying married,” Lambert said brightly, clicking through to the first slide. “We get a massive tax break. We’re talking paying a half, or less of our usual taxes, for 20 years. That adds up fast.” Next slide. “We get a massive grant for buying a house if we apply for it within five years of getting married, so if one of us wants to buy we’re golden.” Next slide. “If we open a business together the loan paperwork is a shitton easier, and again, more grants.” Next slide, this one filled with a massive exclamation point. “And this is the kicker.” </p>
<p>Aiden sipped his coffee. It was almost completely gone. “Enlighten me.” </p>
<p>Lambert clicked. </p>
<p>Aiden spat out his coffee, eyes going very wide. </p>
<p>“No matter where we go for grad school, if we go somewhere in Kaedwen, the cost is cut in half and Kaedwen will also subsidize housing if we haven’t already bought a house,” Lambert said smugly. “We should stay married.” </p>
<p>“Melitele’s holy fucking asscrack,” Aiden wheezed, staring at the screen. “We have to stay married.” </p>
<p>Lambert grinned. “At least through grad school.” </p>
<p>“At least,” Aiden agreed, eyes still very wide. He sat back, staring into space. “Fuck...I might… I could actually <em>apply</em> for grad school now. I didn’t think it was possible for me.” His eyes snapped to Lambert. “I want to do fight choreography, and University of Ard Carraigh has a fantastic program.” </p>
<p>Lambert grinned. “Convenient, they’ve got a really fucking good physics program that I want to get into.” </p>
<p>“<em>Perfect</em>,” Aiden beamed. “We should celebrate our nuptials. Go to brunch or something. People do brunch for weddings, don’t they?” </p>
<p>“Oh fuck yeah,” Lambert said, “let me get my jacket and we’ll have so many tiny mimosas. We should probably talk about what this means as far as dating, too, I guess? I mean more for you than me, I don’t really date.”</p>
<p>Aiden trailed after him to the bedroom, curious. “What do you mean? You just do hook ups?” </p>
<p>“Nah,” Lambert said, fishing his jacket out of the closet and grabbing a comfortable pair of boots. “Demisexual and bi, so finding someone who actually likes me and I like back enough to get nasty with and who actually respects me being non-binary is rare as shit, so I don’t get around much. Plus I’ve got a fuckton of homework on any given day, and I’m an asshole. Doesn’t add up to much of a dating life.” </p>
<p>Aiden hummed, thoughtful. “I’m not big on dating,” he admitted, “I haven’t had very good luck with it, so it’s kind of put me off, plus there’s all the other shit going on in my life right now. I do sometimes hook up with people, though, and I’ve got a couple friends with benefits. Are you going to care if I sleep with other people, oh husband of mine?” </p>
<p>Lambert snorted, grabbing his wallet and the ring off of the night stand to slip it on. “Just come back to me before dawn,” he teased, and Aiden cackled. A glance at Aiden’s hand showed he was actually still wearing his- </p>
<p>His wedding ring. </p>
<p>Lambert stopped, looking down at his hand. “Fuck,” he said, a little startled by the sudden well of emotion in his chest. “The rings are real, now.” </p>
<p>Aiden looked down at his own hand, running a thumb over the smooth sterling silver. “Thank fuck they were real metal then, I hate those green copper stains. ” </p>
<p>“Agreed,” Lambert said wholeheartedly, and when they’d found a brunch spot and the classic brunch mimosas were half gone, he realized, “Oh, shit, our families. My brothers are never going to stop giving me shit about this.” </p>
<p>Aiden’s face fell a little, and he played with the stem of his glass. “Mmm. You have brothers?”</p>
<p>“Two of them, both the same age and older,” Lambert said, and paused for a second before biting out, “We’re all adopted. Eskel and Geralt, they were taken in by Vesemir when they were little. I was nine, adopted when I was 13.” </p>
<p>Aiden brightened a little. “Same kind of story for me,” he said. He was smiling, but it was a little subdued. “I wasn’t ever formally adopted, but I bounced around for a few years before I landed in a kind of… I guess a group home? I don’t know what it was legally, but I have a bunch of people I consider siblings from there. Dasha’s the only one who’d be upset I didn’t tell him. You’d like him, I think.” </p>
<p>Lambert’s heart did something uncomfortable and he absently squashed it, pulling up his phone. “Eskel’s the oldest one, he’s got custody of his goddaughter and is trying to adopt her right now. He runs a goat farm. Geralt’s the middle child, he’s younger than Eskel by a month and Eskel never lets him forget it. He's a horse trainer and owns his own stable. He’s got two partners, Yennefer and Jaskier, and they’ve got a little girl that Geralt got about six months back, his goddaughter.” </p>
<p>Aiden blinked. “Wait, Jaskier like that super young professor in the music department?” </p>
<p>“That’s him,” Lambert sighed. “He’s a menace.” </p>
<p>Aiden snickered, and cooed when Lambert pulled up the most recent family picture from when Geralt got Ciri. It was a good picture, all over them in the back garden with Geralt holding Ciri in her massive swaths of lacy dress from her formal Naming and registration in Kaedwen, Eskel with his arms around Lambert and Deidre, and Vesemir looking proud as Yennefer and Jaskier leaned in on Geralt. “Awww, she’s tiny! How old is she?” </p>
<p>“A year and a half, we think? There’s been some debate about her birthday,” Lambert said, putting it away. “Old enough to be a terror, that’s for sure.” </p>
<p>Aiden pulled out his phone, making a face as he looked through photos. “I don’t think it’s very likely you’re ever going to meet any of my siblings, since they’re all over the Continent now, but maybe Dasha… Dasha tries to come check in on me once in a while. He’s he/him non-binary too, by the way- oh, here’s a picture of him.” </p>
<p>It’s a good picture, Aiden laughing with a very tall, ash-blond person with long lashes and a frankly beautiful face. He’s got the kind of perfect, aesthetically pleasing face that painters would love, and his smile is sweet. He’s dressed in a simple white tank top and a floaty blue skirt, tall black boots sticking out underneath it and pearls at his earlobes.</p>
<p>“He looks nice,” Lambert decided, and Aiden smiled a little, almost shy. </p>
<p>“He is. Most of my other siblings, not so much. You know how it is, I guess, getting bounced around and stuff… They’ve got their issues, same as me.” His smile went a little taut, and he put the phone away. “But that’s beside the point. Your family is here, and mine isn’t. What do you want to do about them?” </p>
<p>Lambert shrugged. “Deal with it when we reach that hurdle, I guess.” </p>
<p>“Sounds good,” Aiden said, shrugging. “Let’s just roll with it.” </p>
<p>That lasted right up until after dinner, when Lambert got a text during his feverish work on his chemistry homework. </p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
just realized you’re legally my next of kin now<br/>
I do NOT have a do not resuscitate order, make sure they keep me going<br/>
at least unless it’s obvious I’m like, dead dead. </p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
on the other hand I DO have a dnr, so make sure if I’m dead I’m dead<br/>
stab me if you gotta</p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
kinky </p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
(:</p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me</p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
(((((: </p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
Why did I marry you again</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Geralt called him in a panic on a Saturday about a week after the Wedding Realization, and delivered a tiny Cirilla to Lambert on his way out to the vet to deal with some sort of Roach related emergency. Geralt looked like an absolute mess, which wasn’t a surprise, since Geralt was always a mess. He looked especially dramatic with his long hair up in a bun and a three day old beard, his boots muddy and jeans and shirt long since worn to thinness.<p>“Sorry about this,” he said as he handed off the bag of Ciri’s things. Ciri, being the precious joy that she was, was blessedly asleep in Geralt’s massive arms. “I know you’ve got a paper but Jaskier’s in class and Yenn’s in fucking Toussaint right now dealing with some sort of political bullshit, I didn’t ask, and Eskel’s got that breeders show and Vesemir’s out of town for-” </p>
<p>“It’s <em>fine</em>, give me my niece,” Lambert demanded, holding out his arms. “If I turn on some metal she’ll sleep through my writing anyway, Jaskier’s trained her too well.” </p>
<p>Geralt made a low whining noise as he handed Ciri over, looking very torn, but Ciri was fast asleep and flopped onto Lambert’s shoulder without hesitation. Kid could sleep through anything, and regularly did. Geralt gently stroked her curls for a second before reluctantly backing up. “I should be back in three hours at most-” </p>
<p>“<em>Go</em>,” Lambert said, waving him off. “If she’s that upset I’ll call you.” </p>
<p>Geralt whined again and then bolted for the idling truck, and Lambert closed the door with an eye roll. His front room couch was blissfully comfortable, a massive and soft L-shaped beast he’d spent way too much money on, and he settled Ciri on it with a blanket before turning on one of Jaskier’s favorite metal bands and getting back to work on his paper. His phone pinged about halfway through Geralt’s 3 hour window, and Lambert grabbed it to check his messages. </p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
I am literally begging you to let me sleep over tonight<br/>
I’m being sexiled<br/>
i have nowhere to go<br/>
pls </p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
sure </p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
thank you babe </p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
Do NOT call me that<br/>
come over whenever<br/>
i have my niece for a few hours so be quiet when you come in</p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
:o!!!!</p>
<p>Aiden appeared at his doorway about fifteen minutes later with a bag and let himself in, replacing the key in its hidey hole before carefully walking up the narrow steps that led to Lambert’s apartment. Lambert waved at him, and Aiden’s eyes went very wide when he saw Ciri, who took the opportunity to snuffle in her sleep and roll like a cat. Aiden made a faint squeaky noise.</p>
<p>“She’s so <em>cute</em>,” Aiden whispered, never mind the metal music still going, and put his bag down to inch over and look at her closer. His pupils were blown wide in instant adoration, and Lambert grinned as he sat down and hunkered in by the couch, obviously fascinated and adoring. Ciri had that effect on most people, honestly. “What’s her name?” </p>
<p>“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon zi Rivia,” Lambert recited. “Ciri, for short. Riannon was her birth parents surname, zi Rivia’s my brother’s.” </p>
<p>“I would kill and die for her,” Aiden said with full sincerity. “Are all babies so small? Is she technically a baby anymore? I haven’t really been around many.” </p>
<p>“Yes they’re all small, and she’s a toddler now. She’s a menace besides, just like her parents,” Lambert said, and gave up on doing his work as Aiden laid his head on the couch to just look at her, keeping a careful distance as he marveled. It was cute. It was <em>so</em> fucking cute. Aiden looked like one of those big dogs meeting a baby for the first time, and Lambert surreptitiously took a picture of the pair. </p>
<p>Aiden finally came to sit next to him on the couch, pulling his legs up and thumping his head in a sort of proprietary way on Lambert’s shoulder as Lambert finally got back to work. A few minutes later, he was snoring. Lambert rolled his eyes, fighting a grin, and focused on his paper. </p>
<p>His phone buzzed with Geralt’s alert that he was on his way back, and by the time he’d arrived Lambert had managed to get Aiden to lean into the arm of the couch instead and had gathered up Ciri’s things for Geralt. Ciri herself was easy to hold with one arm, and she snuggled sleepily against his shoulder when Geralt finally appeared. He looked considerably calmer, and openly sighed with relief when Lambert gave her back. </p>
<p>“She slept the whole time?” </p>
<p>Lambert nodded. “Must have been tired. She keep you busy this morning?” </p>
<p>“Ohhhh yes,” Geralt sighed, kissing her forehead. “She’s learning how to run very fast. We’re going to be in trouble soon.” </p>
<p>Lambert grinned, leaning over to kiss the top of her head goodbye, and let Geralt leave with her. </p>
<p>Aiden was yawning himself awake when Lambert walked back up to the main room, and frowned sleepily at him. “No more Ciri?” </p>
<p>“Nah, that was Geralt. He had to take his horse to the vet, so I got to babysit for a bit. Takeout menus are in the silverware drawer in the kitchen if you want to get anything, I’ve got another hour of this shit at least before I’m anything like done,” Lambert told him, and plopped back down on the couch. </p>
<p>Aiden leaned back into him again, eyes closing. “Mm, in a bit. You’re warm and I love this couch. How’d you afford a place by yourself?” </p>
<p>Lambert pulled up his newest research paper, groaning when he saw the mess he’d made of his citations. “Shit, this is going to take forever. Oh, I work with the Kaer Morhen Preserve in the summer fighting fires and doing wildlife management, shit like that. Three months of work for a very high wage with hazard pay for hunting plus a shitton of scholarships means I live pretty comfortable. This place is pretty cheap, too, if you take your time looking you can find some good places here.” </p>
<p>Aiden hummed, nestling in. “How’d you get on at the Preserve?” </p>
<p>“Nepotism,” Lambert said frankly, and that got a snort of laughter out of Aiden. “Vesemir put in a good word for me with the outdoors department after I got licensed. He worked on the old Witcher ruin, the castle part, for most of his life. I grew up there, more or less, out in the woods. People used to joke that me and my siblings were practically Witchers ourselves, how we got raised.” </p>
<p>“Yeah? How so?” </p>
<p>“Vesemir’s a fencing master, ranked internationally, so I’m good with a sword, with a bow, with climbing gear, all that. Turned out useful that I know sword work, you have to carry silver and steel both when you work in the Preserve even if you’re not licensed to hunt. I can do a little magic, just basic Sign cantrips because my ma had magic too, and I’m good in the wilderness. I learned woodscraft young from my ma, because it was that or starve, and then Vesemir taught me even more. Most people are okay with it, but me and my brothers and Vesemir, we’re damn good.” Lambert clicked on a likely looking article, skimmed the description, and clicked away. “I’ve killed a few monsters, too.” </p>
<p>Aiden jolted, sitting up. “You have <em>not</em>.” </p>
<p>“Have,” Lambert retorted, not smiling. “It sucks. Don’t recommend it. I’m licensed for hunting shit but it’s rough.” </p>
<p>“What’ve you killed?” Aiden demanded. He didn’t look happy, he looked concerned, and Lambert felt something in him relax. He wasn’t looking for a story, just interested and maybe worried, and that was the right response to monsters.</p>
<p>“Drowners, mostly. There are some in the lake at the base of the ruin, we have to clean them out every year. Foglets, hate those. Wraiths. I got caught with Geralt in the open once and got attacked by harpies, which sucked.” Those had left a scar running from the base of his left hip on his back halfway to his spine in an ugly, ragged line, and he didn’t like thinking about how that injury had gone. “I got to bomb out an Endrega nest once, the bombing bit was fun. Endregas are fucking horrifying though. Otherwise it’s mostly just making sure the wolves and bears don’t get out of hand and start preying on shit down in the valleys out of the preserve and doing a lot of counting owl nests. Sometimes if an arch griffin comes there’s a group hunt.” </p>
<p>Aiden shuddered, settling back down and hunkering in on him. “Fuck, man.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. It was a hell of a way to grow up. I don’t regret it, but still.” </p>
<p>Aiden grimaced. “And I thought street living was rough. People only threatened me, I never had to actually fight for my life. Wait, no, there was one time, but I only had to stab him a little and then I ran off to live another day.” </p>
<p>“Wise choice.” Lambert hesitated, then asked, “So you were on the streets for a while?” </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Aiden huffed a sigh, nuzzling his shoulder. He’d pulled out his keys at some point and was playing with a puffball of a plush with a face that looked a little familiar, like a character Lambert couldn’t remember the name of. “About a year, right before Stygga group took me in. Maybe a little more than a year? I was… oh, 13? 14? Time is hard for me. I’d had a really shitty foster family and the streets were safer, so I took off and lived in an abandoned theater for most of it. I loved that theater. It’s still there, you know, just this big old derelict up for sale. I sneak in sometimes and dream about putting on plays there.” </p>
<p>“Take me some time,” Lambert said absently, and Aiden jolted a little against him before settling. </p>
<p>“Okay,” he said, very soft, and sounding very happy. </p>
<p>Eventually they wound up getting proper Nilfgaardian takeout, which was spicy enough to make Aiden’s eyes water as Lambert shoveled it down and went back for seconds. Thankfully they’d ordered quite a lot, and Lambert only doctored it a little with more of his hot sauce.</p>
<p>“You look like you’re Skelligen,” Aiden complained as he drank his milk to deal with the burning. “What with the red hair and the pale skin and all, you shouldn’t like spice this much. I’m the one with Mettina blood, I should be fine!” </p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Lambert said, industriously chewing. “Ma was from Sodden, sperm donor was from Temeria. Got it from my ma, and you just have no sense of taste.” </p>
<p>“Mm, you might be right there,” Aiden agreed, and passed him the rest of his plate when he saw Lambert eyeing it. “Remind me next time that I’m too much of a baby for medium, at least from that restaurant.” </p>
<p>“Whimp,” Lambert snickered, and devoured the rest of it. He worked on yet more homework until Aiden managed to badger him into playing some weird co-op game he didn’t even know his game system had, and when midnight hit and bed called Aiden started looking for blankets. </p>
<p>Lambert watched him for a second before saying, dryly, “We’re married and we’ve already slept together, Aiden, your virtue is hardly an issue.” </p>
<p>Aiden whacked him in the face with a pillow. “Rude. But… you’re okay sharing a bed?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, tossing the pillow back. “You don’t roll around much and you only snore a little, should be fine. Besides, my bed is huge and not really getting any use aside from me starfishing when I’m bored.” </p>
<p>“You <em>do</em> have a queen size bed,” Aiden mused. “Why not. Take me to bed, husband!” </p>
<p>Lambert rolled his eyes, and before Aiden could brace scooped him up and plopped him over his shoulder. Aiden yelped, thrashing for a second until Lambert wrapped an arm around him to hold him still. He looked a little frazzled when Lambert tossed him bodily on the bed, and Lambert cackled as he flipped him off. </p>
<p>“You asked,” he said cheekily, and Aiden stuck his tongue out at him before hopping off the bed to go find his bag.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>When do I get to meet Aiden?<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>
hopefully never </p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>
He’s cute!!! I wanna see why you’re friends<br/>
And also get his number if he’s down<br/>
Geralt’s too sleep deprived to put out and Yenn’s out of town<br/>
I say this with loving dismay because I a) want Geralt rested and b) Yenn home<br/>
wing man for me o brother not yet in law </p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>
and people call me an asshole<br/>
Aiden’s married</p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>
oh shit<br/>
he doesn’t have a ring in most of his pictures, whoops </p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>
yeah, because he works with his hands<br/>
so you can keep your hands off </p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>
Fine, fine<br/>
I will relegate myself to a life of celibacy<br/>
woe and tragedy befall me, but i will persevere</p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>
you are so fucking weird</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>“I shouldn’t have to say this,” Lambert said when Aiden finally rolled out of bed the next morning and joined him in the living room, where Lambert was already working on his next paper for his philosophy class and had been for an hour, “but don’t fuck Jaskier.”<p>Aiden blinked at him, and then blinked again. “The… the professor? Who your brother is dating?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, frantically typing up another three lines before deleting two more. “He’s a horny, soulless little man, and Geralt wouldn’t care but <em>I’d</em> care that I got cucked by my own damn brother in law. Brother not yet in law. Whatever.” </p>
<p>“Kinky,” Aiden said, yawning, and came to sit on the couch and curl up against him. “Breakfast?” </p>
<p>“There’s pancakes warming in the electric fry-pan for you,” Lambert said, skimming through a massive wall of text and grunting his annoyance. “Fucking Edelgard, honestly, the rights of the few should be hunted for sport, so fucking glad he burned at the stake… There are four different kinds of syrups on the wall by the stove, they should still be warm enough to pour, butter’s in the cupboard, berries are in the refrigerator door. Do not fucking eat my honey butter, that shit’s for special occassions only.” </p>
<p>Aiden makes a deep, near lusty noise. “Darling man, were we not already wed, I would propose to you on the spot. As it is, I’m inclined to try and tempt you to the bedroom.” </p>
<p>Lambert paused to consider it, weighed the pros and cons of trying to fuck someone he was currently only emotionally attracted to as opposed to just jacking off, then shook his head. Not worth it. “Gotta get this done. Give me about four months and I’ll be easy for you, probably. Feels like that’s how this might shake down.” </p>
<p>“Nice,” Aiden said, nuzzling against his shoulder before hopping up to go and get his pancakes. “Let me know if you ever want to have a go at sex, could be fun. You’re hot.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Lambert snorted. “Grab me one of the green energy drinks out of the fridge while you’re up.” </p>
<p>“Get it yourself,” Aiden said, and came back with it a few seconds later. “Here, babe.” </p>
<p>Lambert sighed. “That better not become a thing.” </p>
<p>“It’s gonna be a thing. It’s a term of endearment. I am endeared to my husband, who is nice and lets me sleep in his cozy bed while I’m sexiled, and who is helping me commit tax fraud, and who is, again, very hot and makes me the most <em>delicious</em> food.” Aiden ruffled his hair, dodged Lambert’s snapping teeth, and laughed all the way back to the kitchen. </p>
<p>Lambert watched him go, feeling very odd, and shook his head. He had papers to do and a summa cum laude to land. </p>
<p>Aiden’s sexiled status was lifted about noon, but instead of leaving he stayed, flopped out on the couch and scrolling endlessly on his phone with his head pressed up against Lambert’s thigh as he tapped away at his papers. He only got up to make some sandwiches, which Lambert devoured, and once to get the mail when it thumped against the door. Otherwise he stayed as a quiet but reassuring bulk at Lambert’s side, not interrupting, just taking up space and air. </p>
<p>When Lambert finally shut his laptop with a groan, stretching his back out, Aiden looked up at him with big eyes probably designed to get him anything he wanted and asked, very sweetly, “Cintran pizza?” </p>
<p>“Only if we don’t get olives.” </p>
<p>Aiden beamed. </p>
<p>And didn’t leave. </p>
<p>And Lambert woke up the next morning wondering why, exactly, he was snoring on the other half of the bed. </p>
<p>He decided he didn’t care, and when Aiden came stumbling out of the bedroom and crooned wordless noises at him until he poured him a mug of coffee and slid a plate of waffles over to him, he decided it was fine. Aiden was all curls and softness in the morning, fuzzy eyed and scrunching nose, and Lambert suddenly understood everything about why Eskel dropped everything in his life to coo at baby goats. </p>
<p>Aiden was completely useless in the morning, much like a baby goat, and equally like a baby goat, clumsy as shit and determined to get into everything until he woke up properly. </p>
<p>“Marry me,” he croaked as Lambert forced some pears on his plate for him to eat following his failed attempt to get the fridge door open and the jam jar lid open. </p>
<p>“Already did, dumbass, go get dressed. I have class in an hour, so if you want a ride you’d better hurry. Otherwise I’m locking you out.” </p>
<p>“Fine,” Aiden whined, shoving a slice of pear in his mouth. “So mean to me.” </p>
<p>Lambert snorted, shooing him away, and got the place as cleaned as it was going to be before grabbing his bag and his helmet. Aiden emerged in clean clothes, yawning, and tossed his bag on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Drop me at the Fine Arts building, I keep a bug out bag there with clean clothes,” he said, and Lambert nodded as he locked the door. “Where’s your car?” </p>
<p>“At Vesemir’s, I’ve got the bike right now.” </p>
<p>“I’m not sitting on the handle bars all the way to campus- sweet merciful fuck, why do you have to push every one of my buttons this early in the morning?” Aiden said, inhaling sharply as Lambert straddled his motorcycle and waved him on back, fishing out the spare helmet and putting his bag in the saddlebags. “You’re a cruel man, Lambert.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, get on already.” </p>
<p>Maybe, Lambert thought as Aiden whooped with delight as they got on the road, being married wasn’t going to be half bad.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dasha is an OC who came to be in Lacebound, so keep an eye out for him there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lambert's mouth moves before his brain, and Aiden gets a new roommate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aiden didn’t really leave after that, so much as sometimes sleep in other places and then come barging in whenever he liked. It took exactly a week of having to drag himself up to unlock the door before Lambert gave up and rearranged his closet to have space for Aiden’s clothes and get a second key cut. He handed it over while Aiden was doing their laundry (their laundry. Not his laundry. Both sets of clothes. How had this happened?) and said, “Remember to actually lock the door when you leave, you trash fire, I don’t want to get robbed.” </p>
<p>The look Aiden gave him was somewhere between shocked and thrilled, so Lambert just flicked him in the forehead and went to order dinner. </p>
<p>And that was that. Married life was surprisingly normal. Sure, he wound up having to do a shitton of paperwork with the school, but otherwise that was about it. They weren’t sharing a bank account, so they didn’t have any real shared expenses to think about. They were just. Married. </p>
<p>At least, right up until the day that Aiden came slinking in and curled up tight on the couch, pulling the blankets over his head to hide from the world. Lambert, who was in the middle of working through one of his papers for Applied Physics, eyed him for a moment before deciding that if it was important enough, Aiden would get around to telling him. He got all the way through the paper and halfway through carving up the chicken that had been stewing in the slow cooker all day before Aiden shuffled into the kitchen with the blanket wrapped around him and sat on one of the counter stools.  </p>
<p>“My roommate wants to kick me out,” he said abruptly. “Because he wants his girlfriend to move in, and she wants them to have the place to themselves.” </p>
<p>“What an asshole,” Lambert said mildly. “Want to egg them?” </p>
<p>That got him a ghost of a smile. “Mm, maybe. Fuck, Lambert, I don’t know where I’m going to go yet.” </p>
<p>“Here, I guess,” Lambert said without thinking, and his brain let out a shriek of alarm as Aiden stared at him and he stared at Aiden and the world came screeching to a halt. “Uh.” </p>
<p>Aiden let out a slow, careful breath, eyes very wide. “I’m… gonna let you actually think about that, first,” he said, his voice a little pitchy. “Because you like having your own space. And I would like some space. And this is a one bedroom.” </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Lambert choked out, and Aiden scuttled back into the living room. </p>
<p>Lambert mechanically carved up the rest of the chicken before fleeing to his bedroom and shutting the door, and he sat down hard on the bed as he stared into space. That was… unexpected. What the fuck was wrong with him? They had met not even a month ago, and sure they were married and Aiden already had a key to the house, but still! They were friends, but still in that fragile getting-to-know-you stage. He barely even really knew Aiden, he didn’t even know if he had any allergies, he couldn’t just- He- </p>
<p>Shit, but he wanted Aiden to stay. It was easy to breathe around him, and Aiden didn’t ever push for anything, and he was easy to talk to. He hadn’t had someone to just chat shit with for ages, and-</p>
<p>He was calling Eskel before he really knew what he was doing. </p>
<p>Eskel picked up on the second ring, thank fuck, and said mildly, “Really hoping you’re not in the hospital, Lamb, because I’m halfway up to Kaer Morhen right now and turning around is not a happening thing on this road.” </p>
<p>“Not in the hospital,” he choked out. “I, uh. Invited someone to move in with me.” </p>
<p>There was a long, long pause, and then Eskel said, “Hold on just a second while I pull over.” </p>
<p>He could hear a faint second voice in the background, and Eskel murmured something reassuring. Probably Deidre then. Lambert waited, staring at his bedroom door. There was a rumble as the truck’s engine wound down, and then Eskel said, “Okay. So. I’m taking it that you’re freaking out about this.” </p>
<p>“Mngh,” Lambert said helpfully. </p>
<p>“Definitely freaking out.” Eskel paused, and then said, with firm but gentle bluntness, “Lambert, you cannot live in a one bedroom apartment with another person. You’d lose it. You need space. If you’re going to live with someone, you need personal space and so do they. Two bedrooms, minimum. You have never once in your life taken well to not having somewhere to go to be alone, and living with someone is going to be a massive strain on your health.” </p>
<p>“I know,” Lambert said, his voice croaky. “And I don’t know why I still want to do it.” </p>
<p>Eskel hummed. “They must be good for you, if you want it bad enough to give up your space. So, here’s my advice. You can keep the invitation open, so long as they’re willing to move with you to a new place with two bedrooms, so you can both have your own space. I don’t… Look. I know after Kiera you don’t really talk to anyone about your romantic life, but if that’s what it’s about, you don’t always have to sleep together or be together. Sometimes you need a place to lock yourself in and have your own thoughts. And you’re territorial, do not pretend you’re not. You need a space that belongs to you that you can bar people from. So think about that.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” he said quietly. “But also fuck you, how dare you know me.” </p>
<p>Eskel laughed, the familiar husky rasp of it soothing. “Yeah, yeah… Wanna talk to Deidre?” </p>
<p>“Always,” Lambert said, and there was a small scuffle until the phone was handed over and Lambert heard three sharp clicks. Diedre used a clicker to signal meanings when she was nonverbal, and Lambert had long since learned all the signs. “Hey, Deidre. Got the boys with you and Eskel?” </p>
<p>Two clicks, and a little happy noise. A yes. Deidre’s two massive possibly-wolf dogs were well trained service animals that rarely left her side, but sometimes she could go a bit of a time without them if she felt safe. Eskel did love to take the four of them up to the Kaer Morhen Preserve to run around by the river, though, to get their energy out.</p>
<p>“Nice. Eskel’s taking you fishing?” </p>
<p>Two more clicks, another yes. </p>
<p>“He’s so boring when he fishes, bombs are more fun than rods,” Lambert told her, and grinned when he got a laugh. “I’ll come by soon, okay? We can do the fire experiment next time.” </p>
<p>Four very fast clicks, excited. Some of the ache in Lambert’s chest eased. </p>
<p>“Have fun, and send me pictures when Eskel inevitably catches some moss,” he said, and got another laugh and two clicks before the three clicks of a goodbye and he was handed back to Eskel. </p>
<p>“I heard that about the moss,” Eskel said, in fake indignance. </p>
<p>“Good, you were supposed to. I gotta go, but… thanks. Bastard.” </p>
<p>Eskel huffed. “Look at you, all grown up and using your manners.” </p>
<p>“Only for you, asshole.” And just to prove a small, stupid point, he hung up without a goodbye. Lambert sighed, running a hand through his hair, and stood up. Eskel was right, unfortunately, and equally unfortunately, Lambert knew what that meant. He walked back out to the living room, where Aiden was still curled up in a blanket and running his fingers over the keychain plush again, and looked down at him. Aiden peeked out at him from under the blanket. </p>
<p>“Two bedrooms are near as cheap as one,” Lambert said bluntly. “What’s your current rent?”</p>
<p>“700 crowns a month,” Aiden said, and Lambert grimaced. </p>
<p>“You’re paying more than me, fuck, this place is only 500. We can definitely do better than that, if you want to look.” </p>
<p>Aiden perked up a little, sitting up. “This place isn’t leased?”</p>
<p>“Nope, it’s month to month, like half the rest of the city. Something to do with zoning, I don’t know the whole affair, but if we stay on this side of the river then the rent is all month to month instead. So?” </p>
<p>Aiden flung himself from the couch to hug Lambert hard, relief coming off him in waves. “Yessss, thank you! I promise I’ll behave and keep clean and be so quiet and do your laundry and do whatever you need-” </p>
<p>“Hooold the fuck up,” Lambert said, alarmed, and gently peeled him off. “You don’t have to do jack shit for me, just like. Do your damn dishes and keep the common areas clean and don’t fuck on my couch, please. I’m not your jailer, you owe me nothing. Except rent and utilities, we’ll have to work that split out, obviously.” </p>
<p>Aiden’s face did something very complicated, and he let his head drop to thump on Lambert’s chest. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean- I get- I forget not everything has to be like that sometimes.” </p>
<p>“Guess I’ll work on reminding you,” Lambert said, but he understood. Geralt could get like that sometimes, so bound up in the anxiety of someone leaving that he would do anything in his power to make himself indispensable. For the most part they’d broken him of the habit, but once in a while Lambert would start suddenly receiving surprise vegetables, or Jaskier would show up with a pinched face and new clothes, and it was back to the beginning. Yennefer had helped a lot with that. Yennefer was selfish, and refused to allow others in her life not to be selfish as well. </p>
<p>“So,” he said awkwardly. “Want to look at listings?”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Unfortunately a double major and double minor did not mean that Lambert had much room in his schedule for apartment viewings, so Aiden did most of the leg work with a list of requirements that Lambert drew up, and Lambert got a series of yes or no texts through the day as Aiden rambled about the different places. Most of them were no’s, not really fitting what either of them wanted, and the few yes’s were in parts of town neither of them liked all that much. When he finally got out of his last class, Aiden called.<p>“Hey, so, weird thing,” he said. “You know those big townhouse style condos on 32nd, not that far from the transit center? There are three apartments of three bedrooms in our range available and the lady said she’d be willing to show one to us. The whole building is empty right now and it’s going cheap.” </p>
<p>“Suspicious,” Lambert said, and Aiden made a noise of agreement. It was a good neighborhood as far as location went, and close to the university. “Well… Why not? Can’t hurt, I guess.” </p>
<p>He met Aiden at the condos, and the crisply dressed and too-wide-smiling building manager showed them up to the top floor apartment. There were only three to a building, all wide and beautiful. The place was enormous compared to Lambert’s current apartment, the main living area covered in actual wood floors polished to a glossy shine, a gorgeous open kitchen, a balcony big enough to host a party on, high ceilings, and gorgeous windows looking out towards the mountains where Kaer Morhen was nestled. The sun was just starting to set, sending beams of light through the windows to set the floor sparkling, and Lambert knew the second he saw Aiden’s face take in the view they were doomed. Well, at least there was an elevator to get their things up. </p>
<p>The bedrooms were comfortably spacious and had plush carpeting, the master bath had a tub big enough for both of them to lay down in and a shower with a bench in it besides all the gorgeous fixtures, and the second bath was still reasonably sized. There was a walk in closet in the master bedroom as well, and Lambert had no idea what they would do with all this space but as he watched Aiden walk out to stand in the middle of the sunlit main room to soak in the light, he knew they’d fill it up somehow. </p>
<p>Aiden wandered over to him as the woman politely made her way to fuss with an invisible spot on the cabinets and let them talk. </p>
<p>“Lambert, I love this place and I don't care who I have to kill or what I have to do to get it, I will suck any dick from here to Sodden if I must,” he murmured desperately, and Lambert nodded, hiding his grin. Wouldn’t do to play his hand too soon, after all. </p>
<p>“Figured. Just one thing,” he said, “and it’s ours.”</p>
<p>He strode over to the woman and gave her his best butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth smile. She smiled back, bright and sunny.</p>
<p>“What’s the reason for the price?” he asked, and the woman’s face turned into a rictus. “Look, don’t give me the sales pitch, just say.” </p>
<p>“Ah,” she said awkwardly, “well. It’s just… the apartment directly below this has a wraith in it. There was a murder, you see, and now it’s haunted, and we’re having a hard time getting anyone in for obvious reasons. The other two apartments are perfectly fine! The wraith is only in the one, but it’s, of course, the middle one, and there’s such a backlog going on...” </p>
<p>Aiden spun around from where he was looking at the massive sink with wide eyes, but Lambert pounced. </p>
<p>“You must be desperate to rent these, then,” he said, and she sighed. </p>
<p>“Unfortunately, yes.” </p>
<p>“Fine. I’ll offer you a deal, then. Keep this apartment at this rate as long as we live here and lower the deposit by 200 crowns, and I want that in writing, mind, and I’ll get rid of your wraith for you.” He dug in his wallet and pulled out his license for monster management, and the woman’s eyes went wide. </p>
<p>“You’re with the Preserve? Trained?” </p>
<p>“Got the steel and silver and medallion to prove it,” he said. “So, do we have a deal?” </p>
<p>She nodded frantically. “Absolutely, let me go and get an agreement typed up.” </p>
<p>The look of thrilled delight on Aiden’s face made it all worth it.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>hey i need your specter oil<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>???<br/>why</p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl <br/>Apartment’s haunted. </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>???????? ur apt? </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl <br/>the one below mine in the new place </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>nw plc??????????????</p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl <br/>just send your fucking specter oil with Jaskier, I’ll get it from him <br/>[You have sent a location]<br/>New place <br/>I’m moving in a week, you are not invited to help </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>???????????<br/>???????????<br/>???????????<br/>wat</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>Geralt said you’re moving to a very nice condo<br/>why are you moving to a very nice condo<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>I’m moving in with Aiden and getting a killer deal on rent</p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>Married Aiden? That Aiden?</p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>Didn’t say anything about the state of that marriage, did I? </p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard <br/>yikes </p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>Just remember the specter oil<br/>i gotta kill a wraith for this place <br/>the things I do for floor to ceiling windows and granite countertops and a tub with jets and a walk in closet and a balcony with a fire pit built in</p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>Oh damn<br/>out of curiosity </p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>if you ask if you can fuck my brother in my bathtub I will end you </p>
<p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>you’re no fun<br/>...is yenn out of the question too</p>
<p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>turn on your location, fuckstain, i just wanna talk</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Jaskier came through with the specter oil, so Lambert brought it back to his apartment and dragged his gear trunk out from under the bed with Aiden watching in interest from on the bed. He used his thumbprint on the bioscan lock, undid both combinations, and flipped the latches to reveal his bomb belt, swords, supplies, and armor. His medallion was safely stored in its box.<p>“Holy fuck,” Aiden breathed, craning to look as he started pulling out his gear. “You really are a Witcher.” </p>
<p>“No, I’m not, I’ve got monster management training and a license,” Lambert grumbled, tossing the heavier leather pieces onto the bed. “I’m a hunter at best. The only Witchers still around are the Cranes, and they only get called in for serious shit. Wraiths don’t count as serious shit.” He carefully put his bomb belt on the bed, and pulled out a couple of the extremely expensive adrenaline boosters to show Aiden. “Bombs are the round ones, potions the skinny ones. I doubt you’re that much of a fucking idiot, but don’t ever take one of these, okay? They take years of acclimation. You could give yourself a heart attack. If you ever see someone hocking one of these, run, because they’re trying to kill you.” </p>
<p>“You can take them, though?” </p>
<p>“I can take half,” Lambert corrected. “With training. Probably only a quarter right now, and that’s pushing it. Geralt’s a beast and can take the whole thing when he’s trained up, but we’re pretty sure he’s not completely human. He might be Elven, somewhere in there, and we know his mom was a Druid, so.” He shrugged. “Who knows.” </p>
<p>He pulled out his silk shirt, his linens, and his boots, and then carefully pulled his swords out. Aiden sucked in a breath, eyes going wide as he carefully laid them on the bed. </p>
<p>“Steel and silver, and no they don’t have names aside from that, because life ain’t a fairy tale,” Lambert said, checking through what oils he had left. No more specter oil, damn, he really was only going to be able to use Geralt’s. He’d have to see about getting more. “Linen shirt goes next to my skin to soak up sweat and keep it off of the silk that goes over the linen, then it’s the cotton shirt, then the leathers, then the metal, then the boots. Swords go on my back, belt around my hips, gloves on my hands, the usual.” </p>
<p>Aiden nodded, carefully pulling the silk shirt out to look at it. “Why silk?” </p>
<p>“The weave is tight enough to stop arrows. This armor’s based off of surviving Witcher armor, it’s more or less the same shit they used however many years ago,” Lambert explained, pulling out the massive bestiary tucked in the corner of the box, followed by some of his old patrol journals. “It’s worth a damn fortune, you don’t want to know how much money Eskel came up with for it, it was my debut gift when I turned 20 and was presented properly at the Registrars as an adult. I haven’t gotten a gift from Eskel in years, unless you count soap, and I do <em>not</em>.” </p>
<p>“Do your brothers have the same armor, then?” Aiden asked, curious. “Or is it individualised?” </p>
<p>“Individualized,” Lambert said, closing the trunk once he’d found his notebooks. “Geralt doesn’t even wear the kind of gear that the Witchers here would have worn, he wears a replica Viper set because he’s a vain bastard and likes how it brings in his waist. Eskel’s gear is probably from around here, but it’s different than mine in the armoring. The cut’s similar on the coats though. I’ve got a winter weather coat that we’re pretty sure is a Bear uniform too, but that’s for serious winter and it’s hanging at Vesemir’s place. Might be Griffin though, hard to say.” </p>
<p>He shoved the trunk back under the bed and pulled the gear down to start checking for any weak points or rust, and Aiden slithered down off of the bed to watch him. </p>
<p>“So you’re really going to go kill a wraith,” he said faintly. “For real. For us. So we can have a nice apartment.” </p>
<p>“Yep.” </p>
<p>“Huh.” Aiden leaned into his shoulder and watched him start checking the pants. “I think when I was on the streets I was stalked by some kind of monster for a while, but I guess it either got killed or lost interest in me. Felt weird, sometimes, like something was watching me.” </p>
<p>“Something probably was,” Lambert said frankly, scrubbing at a mark and nodding when it turned out to just be a stain. “Still plenty of vampires in cities.” </p>
<p>Aiden grimaced. “Ugh. Can you kill those?” </p>
<p>Lambert snorted. “Absolutely not. Those go on the list for real Witchers. Maybe a plumard, the weakest kind, but only if it was one on its own. Elementals are the most I can take on, and even then I’d get someone else from the Preserve or one of my brothers to go with me. I should be fine on my own against a wraith, though. Noonwraith, fuck that, but a regular wraith is fine.” He paused, grimacing. “Actually…they’re annoying. They take forever to hammer down. I’ll call Eskel, he won’t give me too much shit about it. Geralt’s way too busy.” </p>
<p>“Do I get to see Eskel in his gear?” </p>
<p>“Probably not, because <em>you</em> are staying here,” Lambert said, and whacked Aiden on the head as he started whining. “Nope, don’t wanna hear it you little shit, you aren’t trained to deal with this level of bullshit and wraiths are dangerous fuckers.” </p>
<p>“Awww, Lambert, baby, please-” </p>
<p>“<em>No</em>.” </p>
<p>Aiden complained bitterly about it all evening and only shut up once Lambert finished sharpening both silver and steel swords and started working through his sword forms in the living room at half speed to keep from accidentally taking any of his decorations out. Aiden sat in the doorway to the kitchen, out of the way, eyes wide as Lambert cursed his way through each form and stretched after. </p>
<p>“Can I learn when we move?” Aiden demanded. “I know how to do some fight choreography, but I want to do real shit. Please? We’re going to have 12 foot ceilings and all that space! Pleeeease?” </p>
<p>Lambert groaned, flopping backwards. His life was highly regimented and he stayed in shape mostly through sheer force of will, but sword work took a lot of muscles he hadn’t used in a while. “If I can come up with five minutes that I don’t already have blocked out to teach you, sure, just so you’ll stop complaining about it. I’m hiring movers, because fuck this noise. What furniture do you need from your place?” </p>
<p>Aiden winced. “Um… I don’t… have any?” </p>
<p>Lambert turned to look at him, blinking. “What?” </p>
<p>“It came furnished,” Aiden shrugged, looking a little self conscious. “My roommate’s old roommate just left all his shit there so it worked out for me. I… I’ve never really lived anywhere long enough to have real furniture. I have my clothes, and some trinkets, and my computer, and a lamp. It’s a nice lamp, it’s a really pretty antique with a glass shade, but that… that’s it.” </p>
<p>“Well,” Lambert said, groaning as he sat up, “makes moving easier. I’ll steal Eskel’s truck one day and we’ll go pick you up a bed frame to celebrate getting married. I owe you a wedding present. Maybe we should get another one for that third bedroom, too? Or are we making it an office? Fuck, an office would be nice, but if you have friends over-” </p>
<p>Aiden was staring at him, and Lambert frowned. “What?” </p>
<p>“I’m really glad I accidentally married you,” Aiden said, and tackled him in a hug. Lambert fell over with an oof, and decided this was fine, because Aiden was shaking a little and he really didn’t want to fuck this up quite yet. So he bit his tongue to keep from saying something stupid and gingerly patted Aiden’s back until he let him up again. </p>
<p>It turned out that Aiden couldn’t have even come if he’d been allowed to, because the time that Eskel and Lambert could both make work with their terribly mismatched schedules was right in the middle of one of Aiden’s classes. He was wildly annoyed, and Lambert was deeply amused. Eskel picked Lambert up from his mostly packed apartment, and they drove to the new place. Eskel whistled low and impressed when they arrived, and they climbed out to look up at the building for a second. It did look lovely, all crisp black and white paint.</p>
<p>“You’re moving up in the world,” Eskel said, sounding very proud. “Look at you. Fancy place, Lambert.” </p>
<p>“If it wasn’t for Aiden, there’s no way in hell we’d be taking this one,” Lambert grumbled, knowing he’d probably gone pink. “He’s got expensive taste, we don’t need this much space.” </p>
<p>Eskel pulled his swords out of the bed of his truck, slinging them onto his back as Lambert did the same. “About that… You’re spending lots of time with this Aiden, who Jaskier was kind enough to tell me is married.” </p>
<p>Lambert was suddenly very glad that his wedding ring was safe at home, and too well fitted to have dented his finger. “Jaskier’s a fucking gossip, but yeah. He is.” </p>
<p>“And you’re moving in together.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we are,” Lambert snapped, checking his bombs were all in place. “I know what I’m doing, I’m not that much of an idiot.” </p>
<p>“Whoa, little man, I’m just checking,” Eskel said easily, clapping him on the shoulder. It was strange, seeing him out of his usual worn jeans, boots, and flannels and into his red and black spiked gear. His wolf’s head medallion was pulled out to hang out of his gear, and Lambert sighed before fishing his out as well. It was the marker given to everyone registered in Kaedwen for monster management, though they were different designs each year they were given out. It was required to wear them when on business, like Witchers had to wear theirs. “Just don’t want to see you get hurt.” </p>
<p>“I’ll be <em>fine</em>,” Lambert grumbled, “fuck’s sake, just because I don’t go around sticking my dick in any passing succubus-” </p>
<p>“Low blow, Lamb,” Eskel laughed. “Alright, let’s go evict this fucker.” </p>
<p>They both fished out their adrenaline, clinking the vials together before knocking it back. It only took seconds for it to kick in, and Lambert gritted his teeth as he felt his heart rate skyrocket in seconds. For a moment it was hard to breathe, his lungs struggling to adapt, and then he was suddenly, desperately ready to rip things to shreds. </p>
<p>“Shall we?” he asked, and Eskel cackled, lunging for the stairs.</p>
<p>The great thing about fighting with Eskel was that thanks to whatever Chaos one of his parents had given him, his Signs were unbelievably strong, and once they managed to pin the wraith in Eskel’s gleaming trap it was quick work for their silver swords. That was probably in part to the quarter of adrenaline concoction they’d both taken, their limbs firing extra fast and strong as they worked over the wraith. It didn’t stop the thing from teleporting, which was a pain in the ass, but eventually they managed to whittle its energy down enough that it dissolved with a miserable shriek and collapsed into a pile of bone dust. </p>
<p>“Nice,” Eskel said, panting, and whooped as Lambert knocked their heads together. “Fuck yeah, been forever since we did a hunt together.” </p>
<p>“Take it up with the Preserve,” Lambert huffed, laughing. “Fuuuuck, that was great. Shitty diner food and beer for dinner?” </p>
<p>“Oh fuck yes.” </p>
<p>They had to run around the building about twelve times before their heart rates slowed again, but it was worth it, and Lambert beat Eskel on the final lap.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Husband<br/>Wraith is done and dusted<br/>Apartment is fucking ours<br/>[Image attached: Lambert flipping off the camera in a diner with a massive plate of breakfast food, gloves thrown on the table next to him and swords leaning casually against the side of the booth, mid drink from a beer bottle. His expression is very smug, and someone in the background is looking at him with horrified fascination.]<br/>Don’t say i never get you anything<p>Text from: Husband <br/>!!!!!!!!! APARTMENT <br/>also fucks sake babe are you trying to kill me </p>
<p>Text to: Husband <br/>(:</p>
<p>Text from: Husband <br/>mmmmm ominous bastard face, hate that!<br/>but fr, thank you <br/>I did your laundry and finished packing so good news! we’re good to go<br/>bad news is I might have accidentally packed up the sheets in the excitement</p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>it’s a good thing i like you </p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>It really, really is <br/>oh wait i found them <br/>they were in the laundry <br/>have fun with Eskel!!</p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>impossible, he’s too wholesome to be fun</p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>….this is the brother that fucked a succubus right </p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>I said what I said</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lambert has a meltdown and Opinions about furniture, and Aiden gets a wedding present.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for: Sensory overload/meltdown causing harsh words (quickly resolved), allusions to spousal abuse (Lambert's mother) and physically violent child abuse (Lambert's father). </p><p>What, you thought you were getting one of my stories without an abrupt dive into mental illness and trauma recovery? HAHA, not a chance.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was not a single time that any person in the world had moved and it had been a calm, soothing, stress free experience. Lambert had been fully aware of this fundamental truth of the universe, and yet, upon the day of the actual move, had somehow not anticipated it being so incredibly fucking miserable and rage inducing. His mistake, because by the time all of the furniture and boxes had been purged from the place he was practically vibrating in place with frustration. Eskel had probably had a point about him being territorial, which was even more annoying. It had taken everything in him not to immediately send the movers he'd hired right back out the door out of sheer discomfort of having his space disturbed.</p><p>Aiden arrived in a cab with all his worldly possessions, which proved to be a large suitcase, a massive military surplus duffle from the Poviss-Kaedwen war period, his backpack, and the aforementioned vintage lamp with its glass shade, which he was carefully cradling to his chest. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, his shirt a very light pastel pink with the sleeves cut off to pair with harem pants pushed up to brace on his calves. His hair was in complete disarray. He looked like he’d run a mile at some point and someone had forgotten to time him and made him do it again. Considering that Lambert was in a shirt that said <em>Fuck Off Please</em> in very bold white font on a black shirt with black jeans, they were making a hell of an entrance together. </p><p>“Pick a bedroom,” Lambert said shortly, “I’ll tell them to keep the fuck out of it. Oi, that’s stoneware, asshat, <em>gently</em>, those fucking plates cost 8 crowns a piece and I’m not made of money!” </p><p>Aiden fled into the apartment, picked the bedroom furthest from the master, and firmly shut the door before going to help with the boxes. There were only so many, Lambert’s place hadn’t been that big after all, and after some inventive cursing to get the L-shaped couch into the service elevator and into the place, Lambert sent the movers on his way with gruff thanks and a tip, because he was not, in fact, an idiot and would probably need them again some day. The two of them surveyed the chaos, and Lambert let out a string of curses in Skelliger that probably would have made Eskel raise an eyebrow before biting back a scream. </p><p>“Mmm, agreed,” Aiden said, with brittle good cheer. </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, I fucking hate moving so much, it’s the worst, everything’s all over the damn place and there’s all these boxes and you don’t know where anything <em>is</em> and then these the endless fucking unpacking, I <em>hate this</em>,” Lambert growled. “At least they put the bed together and we labeled the boxes, <em>ugh</em>, fuck moving.” </p><p>They looked at the pile of boxes labeled “kitchen”, and both heaved a sigh. </p><p>It didn’t get better from there. In fact, it got worse. </p><p>Lambert was fully aware he was being an idiot, which did not make things any easier when he started getting very specific about where things needed to go. The organization of the fridge was off, so he fixed that. The silverware was placed spoons, knives, forks, instead of forks, spoons, knives, so he changed that. The clatter of his stainless steel pans against the countertops set his teeth to grinding. The damn fruit bowl was the final straw, of all the things. Aiden had pulled it out and set it near the sink, the ceramic sat in a spot that was just. Just <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>“Move that,” he snapped, and Aiden’s face turned mulish. </p><p>“What? Why.” </p><p>“It just can’t fucking go there, it’s not right,” he snapped, the sounds just all too grating and everything too damn bright, and jerked it away from Aiden into place with a sharp noise.</p><p>Aiden flinched. </p><p>He <em>flinched</em>. </p><p>Lambert’s heart plummeted directly to the core of the world even as his frustration stayed snapping, and he shoved himself further away to try and get himself to breathe, stumbling a little as his stomach rolled with horror. It wasn’t working, the damn meditation breaths refusing to come and it was so fucking <em>bright</em> and the world was too much and he flinched, he fucking flinched-</p><p>“Hey,” Aiden said, voice so soft it was barely audible. “Close your eyes.” </p><p>Lambert did, breathing heavily as his eyes snapped shut, and jolted when hands pressed hard over his ears. He pulled back for a second, only the hands stayed put, firm and solid, and then pressed down hard. They muffled out everything but the slow moving sounds of shifting muscle. He froze, the world narrowed down to the rumbling lava sounds of blood and muscle, and without him meaning to his shoulders relaxed and breathing eased. He lifted his hands to cover Aiden’s, holding them in place, and sunk into it. There was nothing there but the lava noise, and he could feel the overwhelmed and spitting core of himself soothing and calming. </p><p>Aiden carefully pulled his hands away when Lambert was breathing steadily again, and Lambert let him go. </p><p>“Keep your eyes closed,” he said, very soft. “Just listen for a second, okay? You don’t have to say anything if you don't want to. Is it okay if I let you arrange everything, and then come back in and tell you if something isn’t going to work for me?” </p><p>Lambert huffed, and forced out, “Shouldn’t. Your space too.” </p><p>“I know,” Aiden said, and his hands found Lambert’s shoulders, gently resting there. “But most of these things are yours, so you want them in places that are good for you, right? You need to know where everything is, and where that place needs to make sense to you?” </p><p>Lambert nodded, feeling hot with a mix of shame and relief. </p><p>“When I get things, we can find places for mine, too,” Aiden said, still very soft. “And when we get things that are ours, those can find places. It’s okay. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me, you just startled me, alright? It was a surprising noise and I was a little unsettled from you being all worked up. We’re still learning each other, we’re gonna fuck up sometimes. So I’m going to go work on my room a little, and get my clothes in the closet. And then when you’re ready I’ll help you move the furniture and get my things put away in the second bathroom.” </p><p>Lambert sighed, leaning forward, and his head thumped onto Aiden’s shoulder. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” </p><p>“I know. It’s okay,” Aiden said, rubbing his back, and Lambert shuddered at how gentle it was. “We’re learning. I’m sorry for pushing and not seeing you were getting overstimulated, I was overwhelmed too and I wasn’t thinking.” </p><p>It was bizarre. Lambert could distinctly remember having raging shouting meltdowns at least once every few months when living with Vesemir, usually when he’d been inside too long and the two of them got on each others nerves, but even after all the endless rounds of therapy he’d never managed to come down from it quite this fast. Usually they’d split apart and Vesemir would burn off his anger with knitting or endless rounds of archery, Lambert going to practice throwing bombs or blasting the targets with Aard or Igni. Instead, all the pent up frustration seemed to have unravelled completely, falling away under Aiden’s careful words and hands. </p><p>Wild. </p><p>Aiden ran his fingers through his hair just once before stepping back. “Okay. Knock when you’re ready for me.” </p><p>Lambert stood there like an idiot as he waited to hear the open and close of Aiden’s bedroom door, and then slowly opened his eyes again. Aiden was gone, the boxes and chaos remaining, and he took a deep breath. Okay. Okay. Moving meditation. He could do this. He could open things and get them stored and get the boxes <em>out</em> and they could have food. He was not going to have their first night here be awful. </p><p>The only difference between regular cleaning and moving meditation was intent, so he focused as hard as he could on maintaining slow, deep, regular breaths while working his way through all of the kitchen boxes. He got the flatware put away, the cups stacked, the pots and pans in their cupboard, the cutting boards situated and all of the silverware in its individual trays and stacked, and resolutely did not think about his last therapist’s opinions on his issues with letting go of control, because even Vesemir had been angry about that one. That guy hadn’t lasted long. The kitchen was put to rights quickly, even the coffee pot and kettle finding homes tucked in a neat corner, and Lambert looked at the rest of the meager boxes that were meant to be part of the living room and frowned. The couch was in place, the comfortable L of it pressed up against the wall of windows, and the roller blinds were all the way up to reveal the massive, beautiful view.</p><p>The room itself had been the selling point for Aiden, he knew. He’d loved the wooden floors and the massive open space, had probably immediately thought of it as a rehearsal space to be able to stretch and breathe in. </p><p>And, really… </p><p>Lambert looked out at the mountains, and didn’t want anything in this room that didn’t have to be there. The kitchen table was situated with its four wobbly chairs in the corner by the doors to the balcony, and the couch could stand to have the rug and probably the coffee table with it, but otherwise, he liked the open space. And if they wanted to fill it, they could later. Right now he wanted to be able to move and still be contained, safe in the walls of his home.</p><p>There really wasn’t a great space to put the TV and game system anyway, so he took the living room boxes and dumped them in the third bedroom. That would work for now, until they got furniture or desks or whatever. It was big enough that they could set up a comfortable space in there for entertaining if they had people over. Maybe they could get more big, comfortable chairs for the main room’s corners too? Make reading nooks or something? Maybe a potted plant.</p><p>He called the only floral shop still open this late and offered a truly horrible amount of money if they could bring him an arrangement this late in the day, which they accepted, and Lambert decided it was a reasonable expense if it meant keeping things from falling apart with Aiden. </p><p>Lambert dragged the coffee table into place, found his one ragged faux Mahakam rug to shove under it, and found an old curtain that would pass for an okay tablecloth that he draped over the sad kitchen table. These things done, he nodded to himself, and went to knock on Aiden’s door. </p><p>Aiden opened it, looking a little uncertain, and Lambert said, feeling a bit uncertain himself, “Dinner?” </p><p>“Please,” Aiden said, and they stood together in the big open kitchen looking at takeout menus until the doorbell rang. Aiden jolted, confused, but Lambert just went and opened it. The delivery woman mouthed a thank you at him and handed over the bouquet, and Lambert took a deep breath before bringing it over to Aiden. Aiden was outright gaping at him. </p><p>“For you,” he said, and handed them over. Aiden took them, poleaxed, and stared. White daisies, white roses, lavender sprigs, babies breath, and a few glorious orange gladiolus made up the bouquet, all of it tied together with a rather fancy lace ribbon that Lambert hadn’t requested but rather liked. </p><p>“I-” Aiden stared, and stopped, looking at the flowers. He slowly brought them to his nose, inhaling, and closed his eyes for a moment before gently setting them on the counter. “Lambert.” </p><p>“Yes?” </p><p>“I am <em>extremely</em> overwhelmed with emotion right now, because today has been a whole lot,” Aiden said tightly, looking at him with wide eyes. “And I would like to kiss you very badly, to show my appreciation, so what you do with that information is up to you. Why are you giving me flowers?” </p><p>Lambert looked around, waving vaguely at the mountain view. “Because this is… Fuck, I don’t know how to say it. This is your home, now. And my home. And our home. And I don’t know how long this marriage will last, could be we’re sick of each other tomorrow or we could want to fuck off to different ends of the continent in a year or two, but.” He swallowed hard, and let the moment settle a little. Aiden was still looking at him. He took a deep, steadying breath, and forced himself to be honest. “Whenever you marry again, if you marry again, I don’t want this marriage to have taught you it’s okay to just shake off hurt without it being made up for, properly, and not have it happen again. I don’t want to be my da. I want to get this right with you. I want you to be happy here, not just getting through it.” </p><p>Aiden’s mouth wobbled, and he blinked very fast. “Lambert,” he said, his voice wavering. “Can I please hug you?” </p><p>Lambert opened his arms and Aiden slammed into him, holding him tight and shoving his face against his shoulder as he clung. Lambert carefully hugged him back, cautious at first, before sinking into it and tipping his head to let his cheek rest against Aiden’s hair. His eyes were dangerously watery. Aiden let out a soft, broken little sob, and he held on tighter as he closed his eyes. </p><p>Aw, fuck, this was not how he planned on this day going. </p><p>Aiden pulled back letting go of him just to take his face in his hands and look him in the eye. </p><p>“<em>Thank you</em>,” he said, with deep feeling, and tugged Lambert’s head down so he could kiss his forehead. “You’re a good man, Lambert. And I won’t hear a word otherwise.” </p><p>Lambert made a wordless little noise, and Aiden gave him a very watery smile before rubbing at his eyes and laughing a little. </p><p>“We don’t have a vase,” he said, and picked up the bouquet to cradle it in his arms. “I’ll hang it to dry instead.” </p><p>They ordered Cintran pizza, without olives, and ate at the kitchen table with the bouquet hung upside down to dry from the pull of one of the roller blinds. The sun was setting beyond the curving hulk of the mountains, and they let the world breathe around them, safe and contained and untouchable.</p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Papa Vesemir <br/>If you reply to this i’ll ignore it but thank you for making me go to therapy. <br/>Something happened today and I didn’t do great with it, but I wasn’t him.<br/>It was bad, but I fixed it.<br/>I hated you for so long for not being my real parent but <br/>I don’t know <br/>I think about Ciri having to grow up seeing what I did and<br/>Just. Thanks.<br/>For keeping me. And not letting me go.<br/>I am never going to acknowledge I said this to you, it didn’t happen. <p>Text from: Papa Vesemir <br/>I love you more than I could ever say, you terror. <br/>I’m so proud of you. <br/>This never happened.</p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>Where the fuck do you buy vases <p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>you don’t buy vases, you end up with them <br/>also thrift stores </p><p>Text to: Nuisance Bard <br/>how many vases do you have </p><p>Text from: Nuisance Bard <br/>Somewhere between 10 and 48 at any given time <br/>it depends on if I’ve made Yenn mad that week<br/>currently we have 18</p><p>Text to: Nuisance Bard<br/>your continued survival is a marvel</p><p>Text from: Nuisance Bard<br/>Isn’t it tho??? I’m honestly stunned i made it to 21 with all my limbs.</p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Lambert woke up with a screaming tension in his back and an aching jaw that spoke of unremembered nightmares, and Aiden snoring softly on the other side of the bed. He stared at the flat white paint of the ceiling for a while as he tried to get his muscles to loosen a little, ignoring the cluttered and disjointed look of his room in favor of focusing on the plain ceiling Aiden had insisted on him taking the master bedroom, which honestly wasn't bigger than the others aside from the walk-in closet, but it was still more space than he really knew what to do with. They’d decided after dinner that the walk-in would be his designated Lambert Only spot, same as Aiden's room being strictly his, both places off limits to the other without invitation, and that was already doing wonders for his head. The boxes were not, though.<p>Territorial indeed, fuck, he hated it when Eskel was right. </p><p>He climbed out of bed and Aiden snorted awake, eyes flashing as he jolted. He rolled up and out of the bed, pressing his back flat against the wall as his head snapped around to take everything in, and huffed a shocked little sigh as his frantic eyes fixed on Lambert, who was just waiting for him to come back to himself.</p><p>"Fuck," Aiden said after a moment, and ran a hand over his face. "Right. New place." </p><p>"Sure fuckin’ is. Want to get a bed today?" Lambert asked, because why not. </p><p>Eskel’s truck was unavailable thanks to a surprise goat emergency, but Geralt’s ancient beater was Lambert’s for the taking so long as he brought it back with the tank filled. Which. Fair. That was doable. </p><p>The drive out to Geralt’s place was nice, the first inklings of the end of autumn weather starting without being too severe, and with Aiden pressed against his back Lambert felt a little more stable in the world. The stable was on the edge of civilization, and when Lambert turned into the drive and slowed to an idle up the curve of it he could tell Aiden was staring. </p><p>The house was an old manor, a boxy thing covered in ivy with two stories and eight windows to each floor. The curving drive led up to a little overhanging entryway, and a meticulously maintained circle of greenery made the cobbled drive especially pretty. The house was surrounded by trees, a second concrete drive leading off towards the old stable that had turned into a garage between tall poplar trees so they wound their way up that. Through the tall poplars the little back yard space could be seen, a flash of flat lawn before it became a sprawling vegetable garden. On the other side of the drive to their right was a massive open field with horses grazing, and on the ridge of a hill in the field was the stable complex, painted brilliant red and white. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, except fairy tales rarely involved battered 23 year old trucks that had been kicked by horses, or 15 year old lovingly maintained cars with mismatched doors, or a horse that Lambert had to pull Aiden back from when she tried to bite. </p><p>“Fuck,” Aiden yelped as Roach 4’s teeth narrowly avoided his hand. </p><p>“Don’t fuck around with the horses, they’re rude bastards,” Lambert scolded, dragging him away from the fence and bullying him into the truck. The keys were, as ever, sitting in the open on the console. Geralt firmly believed that if someone stole his truck, they probably needed it more than he did. </p><p>“This house is beautiful,” Aiden marveled as they tooled back down the drive. “They’re well off, I guess?” </p><p>“Mm, Yennefer’s well off,” Lambert corrected. “She owns the house, Geralt just owns the stables and the property the stable is on. He’d sleep out there, if he could, but Yenn makes plenty of money so they have the house, too. Jaskier’s family are landed Redanian nobility, but he’d rather die than let them have any say in his life so he’s functionally disowned. Plus he’s shacked up with a sorceress and a horse trainer and treats their daughter as her own, and worse, the daughter treats him like another parent, the scandal.” Lambert rolled his eyes as they turned out onto the road. “Geralt calls to yell about whatever bullshit Jaskier’s asshole parents have tried to pull about once a month. Most recently it was trying to find out if they could have Ciri adopted into their family to force her to be the heir to Jaskier. Everyone was pissed about that.” </p><p>Aiden shuddered. “Ugh, creepy.” </p><p>“That’s one word for it.” </p><p>“And Yennefer, what does she do?” </p><p>Lambert snorted. “If I knew, I’d tell you, but I think the only person who actually knows is maybe Geralt. I get a different answer every time I ask. I think she might do something in politics? Or might do people in politics? I have no fucking idea. For all I know she might be an accountant, she’s just a lot.” </p><p>They returned to the edges of the city and Lambert turned off into the endless maze of strip malls that littered the edges, working his way down the narrow streets. </p><p> </p><p>“So we’re not going to a big box store, or something? There’s that one with the funny name from Kovir,” Aiden started. </p><p>“We are not going to that dystopian plywood and pressboard hellscape that calls itself a home supply store for your first real furniture,” Lambert hissed in outraged offense. “The only thing you should get from there is those paper measuring tapes. You get home with of those flat pack things and then you have to sit there and put it together like some sort of 3D over and somehow under engineered puzzle and there's never the right amount of screws or they're all weird designed ones for maximum efficiency but they just bust through the stupid fucking pressboard because it’s cheaply made <em>garbage</em> and then what's even the POINT, they're so fragile you can't even put a decent sized cast iron cauldron on them without them falling apart. They don’t even finish the wood on some of those things, and since people don’t <em>know</em> you need to do that it cracks and falls apart, and I am not buying stain just to waste it on cheap ass Redanian pine that’ll crack as soon as you look at it, and you have to put polyurethane over the whole thing after anyway and sand it and then do another two coats and that takes for goddamn ever to get smooth and just. <em>No.</em> No. I am not buying you cheap ass furniture for your wedding gift, fuck’s sake.” </p><p>“Ooookay then,” Aiden said, sounding more amused than anything. Lambert snarled, making a sharp right turn. “Where are we going then, oh man of serious furniture opinions?” </p><p>“We’re going to go be a very gay stereotype,” Lambert said with grim determination, and pulled into a parking lot. He threw the truck into park, and gestured expansively out the window. “Welcome to the Northern Kaedwen Upper Valley Consignment Thrift and Antique Mall. We’re going antiquing. Your budget is 700 crowns, so pick a good bed frame, preferably one that I don’t have to take to Eskel for repairs, and then we’ll get a box spring and mattress. If you can’t find something here, we’ll keep looking. Congratulations on our nuptials and cohabitation.” </p><p>Aiden scrambled out of the truck with a whoop. Lambert followed at a much more sedate pace, because as a fucking lifetime of getting dragged into kitschy little antique shops with Geralt had taught him, it was better to treat these things like a marathon instead of a sprint. </p><p>It took exactly two seconds before Aiden had vanished, and the sleepy looking store clerk behind a massive teak desk pointed vaguely down one of the narrow, trinket filled halls. “Good luck.” </p><p>Lambert gave him a lazy wave and delved in. It was like just about any other antique shop on the continent, filled to the brim with random old toys, probably cursed boxes, hideous paintings, and a vast array of books that ran the gamut between children’s stories and cult printings. He even spotted a reprinting of the Monstrum volume 1, the book that had lead to the destruction of Kaer Morhen. Vesemir had a copy of the full three volume work, and Lambert had only read it once. Knowing what the propaganda had done, having seen the skeletons of some of the bodies of children and men excavated for study from the ruin, he hadn’t been able to sleep well for weeks after. Not that he slept well to start with. He pushed past the bookshelves and followed a winding path, passing scythes and arrowheads, standing dolls and figurines, a rack of gowns and coats, and then paused to look at a lovely painting of a horse that looked just like Roach 5. He was debating whether or not Geralt would find it funny or touching when Aiden seemed to pop out of nowhere, grabbing his hand to tow him along. </p><p>“Holy shit, where the fuck did you go,” Lambert said, more amused than anything, and Aiden towed him around a corner to gesture wildly. He was practically vibrating in place, eyes wide, and Lambert whistled at the bedframe he’d found. </p><p>“You have such expensive taste,” he said, and Aiden beamed at him. </p><p>The bedframe was a dark, rich wood, maybe mahogany, with tall spindle posts from each corner that looked like they might have once had a wooden frame that ran around them to make it a canopy bed, though that was long gone. It had its original wooden bed rails, thick and sturdy, and a quick look over everything showed that it was still solid and not in danger of wobbling. It was also <em>massively</em> underpriced. </p><p>“250,” Lambert said, checking the tag, and glanced at the matching pair of bedside tables that were 50 a piece. “Want the tables too?” </p><p>Aiden frantically nodded, and then dashed off to come back with another one of the glass shaded lamps cradled in his arms, eyes big with wanting. </p><p>“Sure,” Lambert agreed, “Nice to have one on each table.” </p><p>Aiden squeaked happily, and Lambert took the tags up to the front with Aiden bouncing along in tow. It wasn’t the kind of antique shop you haggled in, and the clerk was just thrilled to have paying customers of any kind. He even helped them get the bed frame and tables out into the truck, and threw in a particularly ratty moving blanket that had seen better years for the sake of the bed frame. Aiden cradled the lamp all the way home, all but vibrating in place, and once they’d wrangled the bedframe into the elevator and into the apartment and into Aiden’s room, it was back out to go to the mattress store. </p><p>Lambert got halfway there before he realized that Aiden wasn’t talking, and hadn’t been for a while. He blinked, flipping off a passing van and barking insults at the driver on instinct rather than with any heat, and glanced over to find Aiden once again holding the puffball plush on his keys. This time he was beaming, though. </p><p>He genuinely hadn’t noticed the lack of talking. This was what he got for living with Geralt and knowing Deidre so long, he supposed. You just started autofilling the conversation and going off of what body language clues you got. Deidre had her clicker for signals, and Geralt usually carried a small notebook in case he needed to make something particularly clear, but it really wasn’t much of an issue. Lambert considered this, and shrugged. He had bigger issues to deal with than Aiden not being verbal. For example, the bigger space meant that he could get his canning equipment from Eskel and start making different relishes again, and he was debating about whether he could get fresh enough corn to make it worth it before the cold set in.  </p><p>The mattress place was massive, and Aiden stared around in baffled wonder. </p><p>“Catch me, darling, I fear I might swoon,” he said, abruptly breaking his silence as he put a hand to his head. </p><p>Lambert, keeping his expression deadpan, put his arm out in a rigid line. Aiden cackled, falling onto it and draping himself backwards a bit. For half a second Lambert considered dropping him, then decided instead to kick Aiden’s feet out from under him and lunge, making the dip about ten times more dramatic than it needed to be. Aiden yelped, arms flying up to catch him around the neck, and Lambert smirked at him. </p><p>“So, fainting couch next, got it,” he said, and Aiden looked very flustered. </p><p>“You’ll give a man the vapors, doing that,” he said, in a dramatically overdone Toussainti accent. </p><p>“We could only be so lucky.” Lambert pulled him back up. “Right, these things are run by organized crime, but something in here should work for you.” </p><p>“I don’t know what mattress you have, but that’s what I want,” Aiden said immediately, linking their arms together. “Darling husband, never do I sleep better than in your bed, because that mattress is fucking divine.” </p><p>“Divine for fucking too, the firmness is great for back support and the topper I have on it isn’t too soft  to keep you from moving,” Lambert agreed, and Aiden choked on his own spit. “I think I remember the brand, let’s go look.” </p><p>One vaguely sleazy mattress salesman later, and they left with a full sized box spring and mattress pair as well as a set of overpriced sheets and a fluffy duvet that Aiden had practically begged for at a relatively reasonable price. They’d even come in a hair under budget.  Aiden rolled down the window, sticking his head out to enjoy the crisp evening air, and as they crossed the river bridge with the sunset starting to make the sky glow and the shadows stretch into oblivion, Lambert realized with a vague sense of detached surprise that he hadn’t once thought about his papers coming do, or the homework he still needed to fill out. He felt like he’d actually rested, for once. Weird, considering how stressful the move itself had been. </p><p>Well. Again, not really his problem. His problem was his husband, whose curls were definitely going to be very tangled after sitting with his head on the window ledge. </p><p>They wrestled the box spring and mattress upstairs with much cursing, and with even more cursing got it into Aiden’s room. It was mostly barren, aside from the new furniture. His clothes had been hung in the closet on simple black hangers, his laptop tucked into a corner, and on the window sill were a variety of little statues and knick knacks. A little jade cat sat next to a plastic toy from a fast food company that had gone out of business years ago, a ceramic crane leaned against a little green army man, and a small metal witcher figure that could have been made any time in the last 8 centuries could only be made out by its two swords on its lumpy back. </p><p>“You like Witchers?” Lambert asked, nodding at the little Witcher.</p><p>“Um…” Aiden hesitated for a second. “I was actually born near Stygga. The Cat school, y’know, the ones that wrecked Kaer Morhen. Kinda funny, really, getting taken in later all the way in Kaedwen by a group with the Stygga name. This was the first toy I ever got, and I managed to hold onto it all these years. My mom said my dad gave it to her for me, but I think she was probably lying.” He walked over to pick it up, and brought it to him to see. The figure was vaguely masculine, had the two swords, and was mostly formless, but there were some details still clear enough to see. </p><p>“Armor’s right for Cat school,” he said, pointing at the arms. “Some of them went without sleeve armor, and he’s got knives carved on his thighs.” </p><p>“Really?” Aiden looked down at the figure, fascinated. “Huh. Are there still examples floating around, like your armor?” </p><p>“A few,” Lambert nodded. “I got to try some on once, it’s comfortable stuff. When I’m at Vesemir’s next I’ll pick up his schematics book for the Cat armors so you can look at them.” </p><p>Aiden beamed at him, and went to return the little Cat Witcher to his position of guarding the room. They got the room arranged to Aiden’s liking after he fussed with the placement of the bed a bit, and finally got down to actually building the thing.</p><p>“So, for gifts. Would you prefer jewelry, instead?” Lambert asked as he situated the headboard against the wall. “Pick up that board, it hooks into the head and footboard, gotta do the headboard first.”</p><p>Aiden laughed. “Jewelry? What would I ever need jewelry for?”</p><p>He didn’t look up from fitting the rail into the post. “It’s so you can run.” </p><p>Aiden paused on the other end, and Lambert impatiently wiggled the board until he hurried to hook it into the footboard. “Sorry, what?” </p><p>Lambert huffed, moving to the other side. “Can’t run if you don’t have money, or things to sell. So, this is an investment, in case you have to.” He hooked the next rail in. “That’s why you give people jewelry as gifts. My ma had nothing. No property at all, no jewelry, nothing to hock. I’m not going to let that happen to you. Anything I gift you, it goes with you when you go, so you’re safe if you ever get stuck with some shithead. You need hidden money, jewelry's the way to do it.”</p><p>Aiden was quiet as he finished hooking in the other side, and he caught Lambert’s arm as he went to get the box spring. Lambert turned to him, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“You don’t need to do this,” Aiden said quietly. “You don’t have to buy things for me. I can pay my own way.” </p><p>“I don’t have to,” Lambert agreed easily. “But I want to. I don’t have friends, Aiden. I’ve got two asshole brothers, two nieces, two in laws, and Vesemir. Well, actually, I have one friend, but I haven’t seen her in two years since she’s lecturing at Aretuza so she barely counts, and Coen, who’s been my lab partner for two years and who eats with me sometimes. I spend money on beer and food, I do nothing but study my ass off and plow through work. You’re the first break in my routine in who knows how fucking long. I don’t have to get you things, sure, but I’ve got cash to burn and it makes me feel better knowing you’ve got an out if things go bad, if only so you can get back to me and I can put my swords to good use cutting down monsters for you. And I will, if you ask.” </p><p>He would. In the dark of the night he had thought a million times over about how close he’d come to killing his father, the hundreds of ways he’d worked out the way of his death. The only reason he hadn’t done it was because he hadn’t figured out a way to get rid of the body. </p><p>For Aiden though? Kind Aiden, who’d been nothing but gentle to him, and laughed, and made him laugh? Aiden who was good, through and through? This far down the line in his life? </p><p>He could kill, and make it disappear, and he wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt.</p><p>Self understanding was important.</p><p>Aiden considered him, dark eyes thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” he said at last, but he smiled as he said it. “You keep saying you’re an asshole, but I’m not sure I believe it.” </p><p>“Oh, I am,” Lambert said, and knew his grin was a little bit nasty. “To anyone who deserves it. You’ve been nothing but good to me, so I’m reining it in for you.” </p><p>“Cute,” Aiden said, smile widening. “I… okay. Fine. I will allow the jewelry, and the gifts. But if it’s too much I’m going to say something about it. Husband type gifts are okay, like the flowers, but you do <em>not</em> get to provide for me. I work for my keep, I’m not kept. Alright?” </p><p>“Deal,” Lambert said. “Termerian for dinner?” </p><p>“Sounds good. I’m buying.”</p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>u ever bringing my truk back <p>Text to: Horse Girl <br/>I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING<br/>FUCK</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lambert faces some inner demons, and Aiden formally acquires a niece.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for: Allusions to Deidre's canonical backstory, mentions of a violent car crash (past), severe anxiety and discomfort returning to a place of trauma (Lambert).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eskel called after his Monday class as Lambert was trudging his very sleep deprived way through the sea of students fleeing campus towards the parking lot. For a moment he thought about not answering and just calling Eskel back after a very long nap, but he accepted it with a sigh and shoved the phone to his ear. </p><p>“If this is another story about Bleater I need at least an hour of sleep before I can hear it,” he said. </p><p>“No,” Eskel said, and he sounded nervous. Not ideal. “I got some news today. Good news, mostly. Our final hearing for Deidre’s adoption is next week on Tuesday, hearing starts at 3:00. So that’s the good bit. The bad bit is that they’re holding it in Vandergrift courthouse.” </p><p>Lambert stopped dead, uncaring of the glares that got him from his fellow students as they moved around him. “Shit.” </p><p>“Yeah. Geralt’s already jittery, which means you and me are going to be a disaster the whole day,” Eskel said grimly. Lambert could faintly hear clattering noises in the background, likely dishes being washed for stress relief. Eskel was weird like that. “I’m telling you now in case you decide you want to wait until after to meet up with us-” </p><p>“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Lambert spat. “Death first, I’m not letting her sit through that bullshit without me there, I don’t care if she’s your kid first, she’s still my niece. I just- I’m going to be a basket case if I don’t have someone watching me, and you know it. Vesemir will be sticking to you like glue, you’ll be fine.” </p><p>“For certain definitions of fine, yes,” Eskel said, and there was a whole host of things that Lambert could have said to that. Vandergrift Courthouse had been the source of most of their childhood terrors, and every single one of them would take any stupidly long roundabout route to avoid even going near the place. “By which I mean not even remotely. I know we’re not talking about it, but… Aiden. If you want to bring him, do it. I want you there, and you like the guy well enough to live with him and he hasn’t killed you yet, so that’s a hell of a recommendation to his character.” </p><p>“You’re such an asshole,” Lambert sighed. “I’ll talk to him about it.” </p><p>“Great, we’re having dinner at Geralt’s place after,” Eskel said. “Call me when you get something worked out.” </p><p>Lambert sat on it all day, returning to the big open apartment to do more unpacking and homework, and when he had finally given in and was taking his emotions out on the meatloaf he was making for dinner, Aiden came through the door with a clatter. </p><p>“Darling husband of mine,” he said with all the drama imaginable. “Light of my life, fire of my loins-” </p><p>“I better fuckin’ not be,” Lambert muttered. Aiden ignored him, coming to lean on the kitchen island.</p><p>“Joyous creature of all my desires, glorious copper haired god of warm beds, I have a question for you.” </p><p>“Shoot.” </p><p>“Can I have people over?” Aiden smiled winningly at him, eyes big. “We have space now! And when we actually get, you know, things like patio furniture so we can sit outside at the fire pit, I might like to have… parties? Maybe?” </p><p>Lambert eyed him. “You do know you pay half the rent here, right? So long as people are gone by two so I can actually get some sleep and they don’t get bodily fluids on the couch, I don’t care who you have over. If it gets too loud I can crash at Eskel’s or something, just give me a heads up.” </p><p>Aiden blinked. “Oh. That was a way easier sell than I thought it would be.” He sidled over, hooking his chin on Lambert’s shoulder. “What’s that?” </p><p>“Meatloaf, Cintran style.” Lambert moulded it into a palm shaped blob and set it on the rack along with its other soon-to-be-devoured fellows. </p><p>“Oooh. Do I get some?” </p><p>“Considering I’m making seven of these and only have the one stomach, yes,” Lambert snorted, lightly knocking their heads together. Aiden hummed, leaning into him and just sort of standing there as he worked. It was a peaceful, companionable sort of thing, and Lambert felt some of his tension ease away. He started on shaping the next loaf. “So. What does next Tuesday look like for you?” </p><p>“Next Tuesday?” Aiden clicked his tongue, thoughtful. “I only have the one class Tuesday and Thursdays, and that’s done at 10, and then I usually go volunteer down at the shelter in the kitchens for a few hours and talk to people, or see if they want me at work. I’m mostly just taking fun classes this semester, since I only have the one class next semester I need before I’m done, so I have plenty of time.” </p><p>Lambert paused. “Where <em>do</em> you work?” </p><p>“I’m going to let it slide that you moved in with me without realizing I had a job, but believe me, you are getting teased about this later. I work in the campus dance studio and art galleries,” Aiden said, “I just take whatever odd jobs need doing, and I teach an introductory ballet class in the summers. Between that and the stipend I get as a tragic former child of the state, I do alright, but moving here is definitely going to be better for my wallet.”</p><p>Lambert hummed, and made himself stop working to focus. “So...You can say no to this. But Eskel’s final hearing for adopting Deidre, my niece, it’s going to be Tuesday at Vandergrift courthouse, and I’m going to be a massive fucking wreck if I’m there without someone to keep an eye on me. You’d be meeting my family, and we can tell them whatever you want, but I don’t- I fucking hate that building. Some of the worst days of my life were in that shithole, and-” </p><p>“I’ll go,” Aiden interrupted, stepping back to look at him properly. He’d gone solemn and serious, no trace of laughter anymore. “No one should be alone in a courthouse.” </p><p>Lambert nodded, looking back down at his meatloaf. It was more or less done. “Hearing’s at 3, so we should be there by 1:30,” he mumbled. “Court clothes and everything, yippee.” </p><p>“Shit,” Aiden muttered, “I don’t know if I still have a full suit, I think I might have outgrown it.” </p><p>Lambert grimaced, picking up the tray and sliding it into the oven. “Dunno if I have one that fits either,” he said, and then paused. “Dunno if I could even stand wearing one, last time I did the dysphoria was so bad I got sick. I’ll have to look around for one, see if I’m okay with it.” </p><p>Aiden nodded, and brightened. “Ooh, if mine doesn’t fit I can just borrow one from the prop department and say it’s for a photoshoot or something, then I don’t have to buy one. Or if I find something for a reasonable price, maybe I’ll just swallow and get it, I could use some new clothes.” He bounced over to check on his bouquet, which was drying nicely. “If a traditional suit isn’t going to work for you, we could find you something else in the props room too, I bet there’s a thousand and one different costumes we could rip apart to make into something you’re comfortable with.” </p><p>“I don’t mind slacks, I’ve got a gray pair I even like, but the white shirt and jacket always make me uncomfortable,” Lambert said, hand going to his throat as the sense memory of a too tight collar came back with a vengeance. “And ties. Fuck ties. No ties. Makes me feel like I <em>have</em> to be a man, and I’m fucking not, and it just, ugh, it feels fucking gross-” </p><p>“How about this, then,” Aiden said, wandering back over to him and sliding past him with one hand brushing easily along his waist, gently reassuring. “We go find you some nice fitted slacks, you put on some black boots that could pass for dress shoes if someone’s not looking to close, and we get you a dress shirt with a bit of a pattern. You can roll up the sleeves to show off your forearms and leave a few buttons undone, and you’ll still look formal enough if you’re just there in support. Maybe a nice maroon, or a blue? And that way you could wear your leather jacket with the patches, you just take it off to drape over your arm when you go into the actual courtroom.” </p><p>Lambert stared at him, agog. Aiden blinked back at him, all innocence. </p><p>“Fuck, why didn’t I marry you sooner,” Lambert said, and Aiden grinned at him, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his temple. It was unbelievably reassuring. </p><p>“This is why people keep the Arts majors around, baby, we're good in a fashion crisis. There’s some department stores open til 10, want to go after dinner?” </p><p>“Sounds good,” Lambert said, and later, staring at the person who really, truly looked like him in the bathroom mirror, ran his fingers over the collar of a maroon shirt with tiny white flowers and felt a swell of open, thrilled relief. It wasn’t quite gender euphoria, he really only got that when he was looking particularly dangerous in dresses, but it was damn near close, and the breathless, bubbling freedom of looking like himself in that awful, miserable hellhole of a courthouse was making him giddy. </p><p>Aiden wandered in and hip checked him, looking in the mirror with him. They’d found him a crisp, dark grey linen suit massively on sale with a maroon tie in a similar color to Lambert’s shirt, and it suited him nicely. “Doing okay?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, looking at the flower pattern. “Yeah. Think I’m gonna paint my nails black and wear a necklace too, but- Thanks.” </p><p>“Any time.” Aiden leaned in on him, and Lambert stared into the mirror at their matched appearance and their wedding rings and turned on impulse to kiss his forehead. Aiden made a startled noise, looking at him in surprise, but Lambert just grinned. </p><p>“Thanks,” he said, and went to go wash the dishes, humming as he did.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text from: Yennefer<br/>Does Aiden have any food restrictions?<p>Text to: Yennefer<br/>
uh<br/>
why </p><p>Text from: Yennefer<br/>
Because I’m trying to get the meal planning done for after the hearing and he’s the only unknown variable. I already have to plan around Vesemir’s restrictions and Eskel still won’t eat sweet potatoes unless being tortured.<br/>
Geralt is being phenomenally unhelpful as he’s asleep, and Jaskier is working, so it fell to me to actually talk to you. </p><p>Text to: Yennefer<br/>
tragic for you, however will you survive<br/>
just a sec </p><p>Text to: Husband<br/>
you have anything you can’t eat </p><p>text from: Husband<br/>
no allergies, but I’d rather die than eat shrimp<br/>
and I hate oranges<br/>
love orange juice and mimosas and the like, hate oranges </p><p>Text to: Yennefer<br/>
He’s violently allergic to oranges and shrimp.</p><p>Text from: Yennefer<br/>
Fantastic, now I have a reason to make Jaskier stop complaining about how he wants shrimp.<br/>
Pedicures in a few weeks at L’Beaumant after midterms? I can portal us down to Toussaint. </p><p>Text to: Yennefer<br/>
oh fuck yes, there’s a reason you’re my favorite sister not yet in law</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>A sudden cold snap sent Lambert with chattering teeth to switch out his bike with his sensible little 20 year old sedan from the garage at Vesemir’s house, and he was glad he had when the Tuesday of the hearing dawned a grumbling and fussy grey, overcast and threatening to drizzle. Aiden fidgeted all through breakfast with his messenger bag, checking and double checking his things and constantly fiddling with his key chain. His suit would stay in at the house to be changed into when he came back for the day, Lambert planning to get him after his class let out at 11:45. He was missing two lectures, but both were for philosophy lectures and considering how rigorous his attendance had been, neither professors were worried. Lambert, however, got to go in his full gear all day, no time to change when he came back to grab Aiden.<p>Aiden had meticulously painted his nails on Monday so they were a shellacked glossy black when he left the house. He was a ball of nerves all through his classes, fussing over the smallest adjustment of his pencils and the position of his feet, and when he finally got out of class he realized he was reaching for the wedding ring that wasn’t there to fiddle with. </p><p>“Fuck,” he sighed, but he wanted that little sterling silver fragment of reassurance, dammit, so when he got back to the apartment he took the stairs two at a time to grab his ring from his bedside table. Aiden was wearing his openly, he noticed, but Lambert found a long, simple metal chain in his meager jewelry box and threaded the ring on it, looping it over his head and tucking it under his shirt. </p><p>“Good?” Aiden asked as they clambered into the car. </p><p>“Good as I’m getting right now,” Lambert said grimly. </p><p>He had to circle the block three times before Aiden could coax him into the parking lot of the courthouse. They sat together in the car, looking up at the massive, ominous building. It looked like a cartoonish concept of a gothic courthouse, dripping in spires and five stories of excessive arches, columns, and decorative gargoyles. The whole building had been done in a nondescript black and grey stone except for the front steps, which were the muddy color of dried blood. </p><p>“If I had one free arson attempt, it’d be on this fucking building,” Lambert said, hands still clutching the wheel so tight his knuckles were white. “Fuck.” </p><p>“It’s hideous,” Aiden said, making a face. “Bad memories aside, it looks like a disaster.” </p><p>“I have so many fucking nightmares about getting stuck in there and never escaping,” Lambert said, mouth moving without thinking. “Thank fuck they do adult Registrations and debuts at the Regional courthouse instead of this hellhole, I didn’t have to deal with this place again until I got my medallion. They should be doing this at the fucking family court, but it’s such a mess I guess it figures it’d have to be here.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Okay. Deidre.” </p><p>“Deidre?” Aiden echoed. </p><p>“Yeah. So. Deidre’s last name for now is Ademeyn.”</p><p>Aiden paused. “Like… the former royalty of Caingorn until the mid 1600’s, Ademeyn’s? The pharmaceutical giants now? Those Ademeyn's?”</p><p>“Yep,” Lambert said, popping the p. “Deidre’s the one who's supposed to inherit all of her dad’s wealth and stocks and shit, her older brother died from syphilis a few years back and he was an idiot besides. I’m not telling you what happened because if I start I probably will set some shit on fire, but the short story is that her extended family make my sperm donor look like a cake walk of a kind man and they have a no contact order signed by the Prime Minister, the Kaedweni King, and the current Caingorn Regent-Governor, and they’ll never touch her fortune. She never has to see them again. Eskel was, fuck… 15. He was 15 when he became her godfather, because he got in a massive car crash and saved Deidre and her dad from a burning car, fucked up his face in the process too. There’s a picture of them together somewhere, this mess of a teenager with a baby in his arms in the middle of this fucking horrible wreckage and fire. Anyway, she called him two years ago and he went through the night to Caingorn and stole her away and got custody and she is <em>never</em> going back there.” </p><p>He blew out a shaking breath, fishing out the ring from under his shirt and holding it tight just to feel something in his hands. Aiden’s hand found his other one, tapping against it until Lambert opened it and he could clasp it. He clung to it, and Aiden said quietly, “So that’s how Eskel got those scars. I wondered, when you showed me the picture. He’s quite handsome, you know, the scars make him look dashing.” </p><p>“Yeah, he’s a fucking catch, and he’s got all the PTA mom’s chasing his tail,” Lambert said, spinning the ring on its chain. “Fuck, I hate this. I hate you seeing me like this, it hasn’t even been two months.” </p><p>“Lambert,” Aiden said with quiet, firm sincerity, “I have nowhere else in the world I want to be than with you right now.”</p><p>Lambert tipped his head back against the seat rest, forcing a smile. “What, not even in bed?” </p><p>“Not even there,” Aiden said fondly, squeezing his hand. “You wouldn’t be there, would you?” </p><p>Lambert covered his eyes with a hand, feeling the tension drain from his shoulders. Into the dark he said, “How’d we get here, huh? Fuck, feels like there’s always just been space for you, dunno what to do with that. Let me be there for you sometimes, fuck’s sake.” </p><p>“You have been,” Aiden said simply, “in all kinds of ways you don’t even know about. You’re doing more than you know, darling husband, and I wouldn’t trade this marriage for anything. You have no idea how amazing it’s been to come home and have someone talk to me, or just let me be quiet, or do a thousand little things that just make my life easier. I can just exist with you. I don’t have to perform, I don’t have to overthink, because you just bulldoze through everything and you listen when I tell you to stop.” </p><p>Lambert squeezed his eyes shut, and his voice was a little ragged when he said, “Gods, you can’t just say that.” </p><p>“Actually, I can, spousal privilege,” Aiden said, and he could hear the smile. “And you’ll just take it, and deal with it, because I can just be honest with you, and you can be honest with me.” </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Lambert took another breath and nodded, letting his hand fall. “Alright. Let’s go.” </p><p>As they walked up to the blood red steps, Lambert said, “Deidre might not want to say hi, she’s not very fond of men. She’s got two huge service dogs, just take your cues from them, and she’s mostly nonverbal so she’ll probably either have a notebook or her phone to talk, and she has a clicker to signal moods. Don’t take it personally. Sometimes if she's comfortable she'll start talking but it's not a given." </p><p>Aiden nodded, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag, and Lambert pushed the doors open.</p><p>Thankfully half of Lambert’s train wreck of a family was still in the entry hall. Eskel was in his best suit and looking wildly uncomfortable about it, and he was talking to Deidre’s lawyer with Vesemir sitting in his neat black and white pinstripe on a bench and snoozing with his hat down over his eyes. Deidre was watching the door, and immediately brightened when she saw Lambert. D’yaebl was the one with her today, a massive black dog with bright eyes and thick fur, and his bright orange service vest stood out strong against his fur. Deidre was a tall, wiry 12 year old, with her blond hair chopped into a severe bob, her light brown eyes bright. She was dressed in a brown pantsuit with a hunter green shirt under the blazer, and she looked very official in it. Lambert waved Aiden to stay back a bit while Deidre came to him and offered her hand for a somber shake. </p><p>“Deidre,” he said solemnly, “I swear you’re taller every time I see you. You gotta knock that off, you’re gonna be taller than Eskel if this keeps up.” </p><p>Deidre grinned up at him, and clicked a bright <em>yes</em> at him. She looked behind him and frowned, nodding at Aiden and looking back at Lambert. </p><p>“That’s Aiden,” Lambert said. “He’s being D’yaebl for me today, we live together.”</p><p>Deidre looked past him at Aiden again, a little uncertain, and then made a little noise. Lambert looked back. </p><p>Aiden had his keychain out and was running his fingers over the plush again. He froze when he saw them both looking at him, shrinking a little uncertainly, but to Lambert’s shock Deidre went straight to him with big, thrilled eyes, and fumbled in her little bag to pull out her phone and shove it at him, upside down so he could see the case. Aiden immediately lit up, and Lambert realized the character on the case was the same as the weird puffball. Aiden dug in his bag and produced a small notebook, also decorated with the character, and beamed. Deidre clapped, delighted, and gestured at D’yaebl, who was taking in the scene with his usual level of suspicion. She motioned putting a hand by his nose, and Aiden pointed at himself, cocking his head. She nodded. </p><p>Astonished, Lambert watched as Aiden carefully extended his hand for D’yaebl to sniff. D’yaebl considered it, then deigned to do so, sneezing after. Aiden jumped like a cat, startled, and Deidre giggled. She quickly typed something out to show to Aiden, and Aiden nodded, brightening. Deidre led him over to a bench, impatiently beckoning Lambert with her, and Lambert followed, completely pole axed. She had him sit between her and Aiden still, with D’yaebl keeping look out, and pulled a notebook out of her bag so they could talk about the puffball character with great enthusiasm. </p><p>Lambert caught Eskel’s startled look from down the hall and shrugged helplessly as Aiden started showing her drawings he’d done of the character in the notebook from before, which she happily cooed over. </p><p>Eskel wandered over as Deidre was showing Aiden her drawings in return. “Made a friend, kiddo?” </p><p>Deidre beamed up at him. “This is Aiden! He likes Catrine too!” </p><p>“Ahh, that would explain the notebook,” Eskel agreed, pausing in front of Aiden. Aiden smiled up at him, but shrank back just a little into Lambert’s side. He could see why. Eskel’s bulk was in no way hidden by his soft wool suit. He looked like a mob enforcer at leisure, not a nervous goat farmer, and he loomed over Aiden. Eskel shifted his weight very slightly and was suddenly only half as intimidating, and Aiden relaxed a little. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Aiden, nice to meet you. Eskel Wilkson, I’m unlucky enough to share a last name with this sorry mess.” </p><p>“And people call me rude,” Lambert huffed, making Deidre giggle. Aiden smiled, opening his mouth to respond, and nothing came out. His hand fluttered to his throat, eyes widening a little, and Lambert smoothly interjected with, “Pretty sure I never actually told you his last name, it’s Kett.” </p><p>Deidre gasped, wriggling in her seat. “Like cat, that’s <em>cool</em>.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Aiden said, shooting Lambert a quick, grateful look. His voice was a little raspy, and much softer than usual. “It’s nice to meet you, Eskel, he talks about you all a lot.” </p><p>Eskel lit up with glee as Lambert buried his face in his hands and groaned. </p><p>“<em>Does</em> he now,” he said, delighted, and Aiden laughed a little. There was a small commotion by the door, and Lambert looked up to see Geralt coming in with Yennefer on his heels, the pair of them in full black on black as always, Jaskier carrying Ciri behind them and dressed in a subdued-for-him robin’s egg blue linen suit with three buttons undone on his shirt and a neon orange pocket square. Eskel went to help them, and Lambert sat back. </p><p>“Deidre,” he said quietly. “I’m going to tell you first, because today’s your day and you should have lots of good news, okay?” </p><p>“Tell me what?” she asked, and Lambert pulled the ring on its chain out to show her. She looked at the ring, a little confused, and Lambert pointed subtly at Aiden’s left hand. Aiden was watching the group, not paying attention to them. Deidre’s eyes widened. </p><p>“It was an accident,” Lambert said, very quiet. “But a very good one, it’s how we became friends. We’re going to stay married until it’s not right for us any more, and we’re gonna commit tax crimes legally until we get divorced, it’s great.” </p><p>“Aiden’s gonna be my uncle too?” she whispered, eyes big.</p><p>“That’s up to you and him, pup. We haven’t told anyone else yet, I’m waiting. So it’s a secret for just you right now.” </p><p>Deidre hopped up, darting around Lambert’s sprawled legs, and tapped on Aiden’s knee. Aiden startled, looking up at her in surprise, and she gestured for his left hand. He gave it over, a little confused, and Deidre stared intently at the simple silver band.  </p><p>“I like it,” she decided. “It’s classy. Since you’re my uncle now, and family, will you stay my uncle even if you stop committing crimes together?” </p><p>Aiden’s eyes welled up with sudden, sharp tears, and Deidre blinked in shock. </p><p>“I- <em>yes</em>,” Aiden said desperately, frantically wiping them away as Lambert helplessly scrambled to do something, anything, Deidre squeezing his hand. D’yaebl shoved his big head in and onto Aiden’s lap to do his job, whining as Aiden looked down. Aiden laughed, a little breathless, carefully patting D’yaebl. “Yes, always, if you ever need anything I swear I’ll do everything I can for you. I’ve- I’ve never had a formal family before. What does an uncle even do?” </p><p>“No family at all?” Deidre said, eyes getting a little wet. </p><p>Aiden shook his head. “My… my mom died when I was really small. I have some brothers, sort of, but we’re not legally family or all that close. I just have-” </p><p>“Us,” Deidre said fiercely, clinging to his hand in determination. “You have us, because Lambert doesn’t let go of anything once it belongs to him, and I don’t either, so you’re ours in heart. And when they finish the hearing you’ll have me officially too, not just in name. No take backs without lots of paperwork.” </p><p>Aiden’s mouth wobbled, and he looked to Lambert. “I thought I was coming to support you, not the other way around,” he joked, and Lambert shrugged, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him in for a hug.</p><p>“Might as well make one good memory here, huh pup?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Deidre said firmly. “And we’re going to talk about Catrine later, right?” </p><p>“Absolutely,” Aiden said fervently, smiling, and Deidre nodded with firm determination before running over to tackle Geralt in a hug around the waist. D’yaebl followed her, sitting and waiting patiently for his human to stop being silly. Lambert watched her go, heart doing a very complicated tap dance routine as she looked up at a startled Geralt and started telling him about the goats. Jaskier and Yennefer were fussing over Ciri, who was looking very awake and like she wanted to start shrieking. </p><p>“So,” Lambert said, tugging Aiden in to urge him to rest his head on his shoulder for a moment. “What’s a Catrine?” </p><p>Aiden whined, very slightly, and pulled out his key chain. “This is Catrine. She’s, um… it’s a cartoon, probably meant for kids younger than, say, me. It’s just this silly little cat that goes on adventures to different planets and it’s just really, really fun and the animation is really beautiful and there’s this overarching story about friendship and saving the world and, yknow, it’s just a kids show but it’s so fun and nothing about it hurts, and she just makes me really, really happy and the fur on the plush just feels so nice and it makes me less stressed and-” </p><p>“Whoa, chill, you don’t have to justify it or anything,” Lambert murmured, keeping his voice down. Aiden made a little noise and relaxed a little. “Show me sometime?” </p><p>“Seriously?” </p><p>“Yeah, man, if you’re going to be bonding with Deidre about her I want to be able to kind of keep up with the conversation.” </p><p>“Oh.” Aiden sat up, taking a shaky breath. “Fuck. Okay. I’m calling out of classes tomorrow, fuck this noise. I didn’t… I didn’t really think about it but they are legally my family now, aren’t they?” </p><p>“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t realize it until just now either,” Lambert said, and stood up. “Come on. At least come meet them.”</p><p>Jaskier, predictably, pounced the second he realized who Aiden must be. </p><p>“Aiden!” He beamed at him mid hand off of Ciri to Geralt. It was a miracle the kid ever touched the ground, with how much she was held. “Oh my, you’re taller than I thought you were, wait, no, boots, I see, I would get some in that style myself but Yennefer says Geralt’s already too tall and keeps threatening to shrink me if I get any taller, it’s tragic. You’re in the Theater department, if I remember right? I thought you did that fabulous ballet solo to the Sorrow of Kiyan, it was glorious, if you have half a second I’d love to pick your brain about what you think about the ballet as a whole- Hi, Lambert, stop glaring! How did the move go? Good? Safe? No weird issues or broken plates? I-” </p><p>Yennefer’s exquisitely manicured hand wrapped around Jaskier’s mouth, muffling him as she stepped up to his side and smiled like a razor blade. “Apologies for him, he’s not house broken yet,” she said with murderous sweetness. </p><p>“Oh, it’s fine, I just hadn’t quite figured where to jump into conversation,” Aiden said, grinning. He seemed mostly recovered. “Aiden Kett, pleasure to meet you.” </p><p>“Yennefer du Vengerberg,” Yennefer said, shaking his hand. “And this disaster is Jaskier, who prefers to keep his legal name buried deeper than his sense of propriety, and I’ve been assured that’s very deep indeed.” </p><p>“<em>Rude</em>,” Jaskier grumbled from behind the hand. </p><p>Ciri squawked, and Geralt stepped into their huddle to hand her back to Jaskier, who was immediately distracted by cooing at her. Aiden smiled at him, and Geralt gave him a slow blink, a nod, and immediately fled to go talk to Vesemir, Eskel trailing behind him. </p><p>“He’s not great with new people,” Yennefer said dryly. “He likes you, don’t worry, he’s just terrified of small talk and decent clothing. Don’t let the pretty face and dramatic hair fool you, he has a single brain cell and it’s reserved entirely for Cirilla until she’s at least 8, though his horses do get occasional turns being its focus.” </p><p>Aiden laughed, relaxing. “Oh, good, I was trying to figure out what I could have done to offend him.” </p><p>Deidre sidled around them, leaning into Aiden. “Uncle Aiden, are you coming to dinner after?” </p><p>Aiden smiled down at her. “Sure am. I’ve gotta keep Lambert out of trouble.” </p><p>“Oi,” Lambert said, without offense. </p><p>Yennefer was staring at the pair in open astonishment, and glanced at Lambert in baffled confusion. He shrugged. It was what it was, and frankly, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse named Probably A Step In Recovery in the mouth. The pair had bonded in seconds and he wasn’t about to try and examine the ifs and whys of two damaged people gravitating together. Geralt and Yennefer were an example all on their own. </p><p>The clack of heels alerted them to Deidre’s lawyer, who gave them all a reassuring smile. “It looks like the court is moving right along today. We’re ready to go in.” </p><p>Deidre swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said quietly. The lawyer walked away, back towards where one of the officials in robes was waiting.</p><p>“My brother used to tell me before every court session, you have survived many things and you will yet survive this,” Aiden said quietly to Deidre. “No looking back. There is only tomorrow, and we will swallow it whole and get what we’re owed.” </p><p>“I like that,” she said quietly. She nodded to herself, taking D’yaebl’s strap. “Swallow it whole.” </p><p>“Damn straight.” Aiden nodded down the hall. “Only gotta live today once.” </p><p>Deidre smiled at him and headed down the hall. </p><p>“I like you,” Jaskier said to Aiden, and Ciri shrieked to be given to Yennefer. Yennefer took her without complaint. “Yenn?” </p><p>“I’m staying in the hall to shield the building, just to be safe,” Yennefer said quietly, watching her go. “I can hold it for three hours, if I must. If the Ademeyn's try anything, they'll be disappointed.” </p><p>Jaskier nodded, kissing her cheek. “Text me if I need to come get Ciri.” </p><p>She nodded, and headed to the bench to sit. Jaskier bounded down the hall to barrel into Geralt and wrap his arm around his waist, and Lambert walked down at a much slower pace with Aiden. The closer they got to the courtroom the faster his nerves reemerged from under the distraction of his family, and Lambert’s steps slowed until they stopped. Aiden leaned into him, quietly reassuring, and Lambert shakily pulled his jacket off. The little white flowers were cheerful against the maroon. </p><p>“No one can take you away,” Aiden murmured. “You’re mine. They have to get through me and the Kaedweni Tax Code first, and I’ve seen that thing, they’re gonna have a hell of a time. Your family too. You're not going anywhere.” </p><p>Lambert laughed, breathy and a little broken. “Right.”</p><p>Vesemir spotted them lingering in the hall and strode over, clapping him on the shoulder and not saying a thing. He didn’t have to. Lambert could see the tension in his face and the lines of his body. </p><p>“One more, for new times sake,” he said quietly, and Lambert let himself be pulled into a brusque hug before Vesemir walked into the courtroom. </p><p>“Let’s go,” he said, and led Aiden in.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Later, long after they’d fallen into bed following a fantastic dinner in Geralt’s back yard and Aiden had finally gotten to hold Cirilla and tell her how adorable she was, and they’d all laughed themselves sick and Lambert had hidden in Geralt’s garage to fall apart a little and cry with Jaskier, who wasn’t doing much better than he was. After the toasts and Eskel weeping into his champagne and Yennefer having to retouch her makeup because she was just as weepy, and Vesemir holding Deidre and calling her wolf-child, after Lambert found Geralt and Aiden sitting in silence from under the overhang of the trees, exchanging silent notes and talking without a word.<p>After all of that, and getting home in the gathering dark, and showering off the day, and rolling into bed and finding Aiden there because why wouldn’t he be there, Lambert said, “I want to tell them.” </p><p>Aiden rolled over onto his side to look at him. It was late, the world outside blanketed in the velveteen lush of a gibbous moon dark. It felt like this little room, still a little too barren and uncomfortable, was the only real thing in the world, close and intimate. Aiden was all soft around the edges, his curls wild and his eyes soft. “I want them to know.” </p><p>“Okay,” Lambert said, “good, because I told Deidre, obviously, and that went well. I don’t know if they’re going to get it, really, but. You’re mine now. We made vows and everything, even if they were purple prose probably written in a fisstech haze for a shitty film. I really didn’t think about it at the time, but I guess it’s real, isn’t it? We’re married. For real. We're bound.” </p><p>“I love you,” Aiden said, out of nowhere, still soft as silk and his eyes glinting in the faint whispers of light. “Just. In general. Gods, you make me so fucking happy, I just want to tell you that. I don’t even know if it’s real proper romance love, I just love being with you, I wouldn’t trade this for anything. This has been the best two months of my life, and even if they don’t approve, I’m going to cherish this for the rest of my life. I’m going to be thinking about how much fun we’ve had and stupid shit we’ve done and people actually seeing me for me, and just. I love you so much, and even if we’re only ever friends with wedding rings you’re going to be so fucking important to me for the rest of my life and I’m just so <em>happy</em>.” </p><p>Lambert gathered him up into his arms, squeezing tight, and didn’t cry, but only just. </p><p>“I can’t say it back,” Lambert said into the side of his head, getting hair in his mouth and not caring. Aiden nodded against him. </p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Aiden said firmly. “You show it, no matter what kind it is.” </p><p>And when Lambert woke up and cooked breakfast in bed the next morning, and called in to his classes because fuck it, he wanted to climb back into bed and eat with Aiden leaning against his shoulder, he felt some bruised fragment of his heart heal. </p><p>He then smeared whipped cream all over Aiden’s face, because that was how he coped with things, and the resulting chase around the house left them both breathless and laughing, sprawled out in the early morning sunshine beaming through the windows. </p><p>And maybe that could be love, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons playing in the distance.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which Aiden finds out about the CHILD, and Lambert remains husband material.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is your warning,” Aiden announced as he leapt through the door following his first evening of work on the new show the Theater department was putting on. He wasn’t in it, but he seemed to be involved with the backstage aspects and something to do with the choreography and directing? Lambert hadn’t really fully understood it. “I’m in a mood to dance!” </p><p>Lambert, who was well on his way through his fourth energy drink and 3rd essay, grunted vaguely. “Don’t let me stop you, live your fuckin’ dreams. Hey, think we could keep our deposit if we put in one of those poles in here?” </p><p>“Only if we got you trained on it and invited the building manager to watch, so, no,” Aiden called over his shoulder as he went to drop his backpack in his room. </p><p>Lambert huffed a laugh, and had a short internal debate about whether or not it would be a wise idea to try and write with just a touch of the adrenaline potion. The answer was probably that he’d accidentally break his laptop in half, so it was probably out of the question.  Then again, if he managed to get his hands on the right ingredients and maybe tweaked the formula a little (because wow, it was easy to work out, people really should have better locks on their books of spells and formulas if they didn’t want people breaking into it, honestly, there hadn’t even been any magical warding and the combination had only been 7 digits) and if he had Yennefer do some slightly shady back alley under the table shit with it- </p><p>He took a fortifying drink and decided he might have a small, small problem if he was considering illegal stimulants just to write a paper worth less than a fraction of his grade. </p><p>Then again…</p><p>No. </p><p>He aggressively slapped the can back down into place on the coffee table and snapped his laptop shut. This wasn’t working for now, so he might as well burn off some energy doing literally anything else. </p><p>Aiden wandered back out, changed into what looked like dance gear (namely very tight leggings that left little to the imagination and a massive tank top), and made for the far corner where they didn’t currently have anything set up. Lambert watched, vaguely curious as he started stretching and contorting in ways that looked more than a little uncomfortable. Lambert, deciding he might as well do something with himself, made for the kitchen to start on dinner. He kept half an eye on Aiden as he started getting out everything he needed for a hearty potato soup (because fuck yes, potatos were the best and it was <em>finally</em> cold enough for a real proper soup). Aiden was using the big windows as mirrors to watch his form, working through what were probably ballet forms before switching to a partnerless ballroom dance. Lambert watched as he neatly traversed the floor on bare feet, pausing at times to correct his footing before traveling back across the floor in elegant, sweeping steps. He did this several times before making an annoyed little noise and running back to his room to return with a small pyramid with a vertical stick attached to it. He made some adjustments, and pushed the stick. </p><p>It started ticking. </p><p>Metronome, Lambert realized as Aiden took up position again and started sailing across the floor. He was keeping time. </p><p>He sat down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and watched as Aiden repeated the same steps over and over, arms always held perfectly upright in graceful curves in the air, dancing with his ghost partner and the reflection in the windows.</p><p>“If you want,” Aiden said without looking at him as he worked through a spin, “you could go get on your gown and I could get on my suit and we could really cut a rug.” </p><p>“I can’t dance,” Lambert said, fascinated as Aiden swept a leg in an elegant half circle and did some sort of kick. </p><p>“You can fence, you can definitely learn to dance,” Aiden promised him, and Lambert hesitated for a moment. Aiden swirled again, and it did admittedly look very cool. “Here, come here. I’ll show you.” </p><p>Lambert hopped off the stool and came to join him. </p><p>Aiden held up his hands, palms facing his chest. “Hook your hands over mine.” Lambert did, and Aiden held them in a firm grip, not tight enough to make him uncomfortable but certainly enough to feel. “There should be some tension in your arms, since I’ll be leading you around and you’ll want to be able to feel it when I signal you. Keep your arms and torso up, and no looking at your feet.” </p><p>“But-” </p><p>“I promise you, you will step on my feet, and this way you’ll feel where you’re not supposed to be,” Aiden said, grinning. “You’re light on your feet when you want to be and you learn quick, I’m not too worried. Basic waltz step, we’re going in a box. You’re always going backward on your right foot, forward on your left when you’re following. Basically, you’re stepping where I’m not.” </p><p>Lambert raised an eyebrow. “Why are you leading?”</p><p>“Well,” Aiden said, grinning, “for one thing, it’s an easier way for you to learn. For another, please try to tell me you don’t at some point want to get your gown on and have me twirl you around to make the skirts go all floaty and huge?” </p><p>Lambert’s face went very hot. “Shut up,” he muttered, and Aiden laughed. </p><p>“In time with the rhythm of the metronome,” he instructed. “<em>One</em> two three…” </p><p>As soon as it became obvious that dancing was just following footwork patterns, it clicked. By the time their soup was done they were sailing around the room, Aiden leading him easily between one set of steps and another. Lambert was beginning to have very positive thoughts about leaving the living room wide open. They ate on the balcony with the fire pit lit, dragging the table and chairs outside to enjoy the brisk autumn weather. </p><p>Lambert waited until the dishes were cleaned up before he said, with a great deal of forced nonchalance, “Can we learn more?” </p><p>Aiden beamed at him. </p><p>Which was how Lambert found himself learning how to dip someone with things like Safety and Good Footing in mind a few minutes later, Aiden looking very relaxed for someone who could be dropped at any moment. </p><p>“More or less, move your hand a little to support my back better. There you go, perfect,” he said brightly. </p><p>“How are you not worried?” Lambert asked, holding the position. </p><p>“Well, for one thing, I’ve seen your biceps and I’m fully aware that all that stupidly good looking muscle is for function, not form,” Aiden said, wiggling his eyebrows in teasing suggestion. “And for another, you’ve already dipped me before, when I was joking about swooning.” </p><p>“Oh,” Lambert said, grinning. “Forgot about that.” </p><p>“I definitely didn’t,” Aiden said, sighing dramatically. “That’s how I should teach you. Just say, “I may swoon”, and have you catch me!” </p><p>“Hilarious.” </p><p>And it was still hilarious, when Aiden turned to him when they were getting dressed the next morning and deadpanned, “I may swoon,” hand flicking up to his head and falling with a very graceful and practiced stumble into Lambert’s arms, which were waiting to easily catch him. </p><p>It became something of a running gag. happening at random points through the day and once when Lambert was already in bed, which made it all the funnier when Lambert was walking past the fine arts building on his way home a few days later and heard a shrieked, “I may swoon!”, turned, caught Aiden as he launched himself at him, and dipped him. Aiden’s friends, all of them waiting by the door, whistled and cat-called as Aiden cackled at him. </p><p>“Brat,” Lambert said, helping him up, and Aiden just kissed his cheek before running back to them with a massive smile. </p><p>He realized about the time that Aiden was teaching him some new steps to the Spallanese Waltz after dinner what was going on, and watched Aiden out of the corner of his eye as they went through footwork. It was, probably without Aiden even realizing, a test to see if he really would be there to catch him. Aiden was waiting for the other shoe to drop. They swirled through the steps, and when they’d finished Lambert said, “Show me how to do it in the real position.” </p><p>Aiden blinked at him. “You mean closed position?”</p><p>“With the hands up.” </p><p>“Closed position,” Aiden confirmed, and licked his lips before gently adjusting Lambert’s posture so he was slightly tipped back. “Long lines, here, curve your back. Head to the side, you’re on display for me to show off, no, no looking at me. Arm up, very light in my hand, and then, you’re going to rest your other hand on the muscle of my shoulder, pinky and index finger a little raised. Yes, just like that.” </p><p>His arm came to rest at the center of Lambert’s back, exerting just enough pressure. They really were close, much closer than when they’d just been holding hands, and Lambert felt oddly small and settled in this position. Aiden had mentioned a few times about the follower being “on display”, and this was the first time that Lambert had really felt like he was being intentionally shown off. Aiden tapped his fingers a couple times to remind him to keep his back a little more arched. </p><p>“It’s going to feel different than open position, with your body having a little bit different center of gravity,” Aiden said. His voice was a little gravelly. “And, uh, it’s very- closed position is very close. Lots of legs between legs. Standard ballroom is very close.” </p><p>“You’ve got me,” Lambert said easily, keeping his head turned and knowing the angle was doing wonderful things for his jawline. “I’ll promise I’ll behave for you.” </p><p>“Bastard,” Aiden muttered, and Lambert grinned. “You’re doing this on purpose.” </p><p>“Yeah,” he smirked. “Riling you up is easy.” </p><p>“Fucker,” Aiden sighed, and counted them off. It did feel different, but it also felt better, and Lambert whooped as Aiden led them through the fast dance. Aiden laughed, adding a few extra spins, and when they finished the pattern Lambert immediately started rattling off thoughts on how the curvature of the back to add some weight might have some sort of influence on the dynamics and speed of the turns. Aiden tolerated his musings all the way through dinner, and only managed to distract him from trying experiments with a surprise cake he’d outright hid in his room that he’d brought home from the bakery. </p><p>Lambert, feeling very happy about just about everything, ate on the couch and then complained until Aiden came to sit with him, shoving himself bodily into Aiden’s space and flopping on his lap once he’d managed to set up his laptop to start a few episodes of Aiden’s favorite extreme guilty pleasure show about mid 1700’s Lyrian politics. Aiden let all of this happen with a sort of bemused grace, and once Lambert was fully settled asked, “You doing okay? You’ve been a little weird this evening.” </p><p>Lambert patted his leg as the opening credits started. “Got my class work done for the rest of the week, had cake, a good dinner, learned some new dance shit, I’ve got you to tell me all sorts of useless interesting shit about 18th century Lyrian costuming and camera angles, and you’re letting me cuddle you, I am having a <em>good day</em>.” He looked up at Aiden. “I will, you know. I’ll catch you, every time you ask.” </p><p>Aiden blinked, expression going very soft, and Lambert hummed in contentment as he started stroking gently through his hair. “Thank you, Lambert. I know.” </p><p>“Mmm, don’t think it’s really sunk in yet, but I’ll keep showing you until it does,” Lambert retorted, nuzzling against his leg, and Aiden made a faint noise before starting to gently scratch at his scalp.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>With Aiden’s days now devoted to rehearsals, Lambert was home alone more, and it took about 5 days before that got very old. The house was just too quiet without another body rattling around in it, and he was irate to realize that he actually missed having noise.<p>“Not that I mind, exactly,” Geralt said on the 6th day of this when Lambert called, “but… you’re calling me because you need noise?” </p><p>“Yes,” Lambert hissed, furiously tapping at his laptop. The paper for this week was giving him no end of trouble, why the fuck had he decided on a philosophy minor? “This is bullshit. I can’t fucking concentrate because there isn’t someone making noise in the house aside from me and I’m not some fucking weak ass little shit who’ll turn on a video of fucking cafe noises for <em>socialization</em>.” </p><p>“So you called me, instead,” Geralt said, sounding amused. “Right. Okay. Makes sense.” </p><p>“Just talk at me, you bastard, I’m almost done with this paper and then I’m going to turn on some really peak pop punk and scream yell the lyrics while I make dinner to get rid of my stress.” </p><p>Geralt laughed his weird huffing, wheezing laugh, and Lambert could hear him sit back. “Well… I guess I’ll tell you about the horses since you need background noise to tune out and the second I talk horses your eyes glaze over. I used to get you to fall asleep like that when you were being a little shit and needed to wind down, worked like a dream.” </p><p>“That’s because you’re weird about horses and just so boring about it,” Lambert said. “Tell me about your horses, weird horse girl.” </p><p>Geralt talked about horses until well after Lambert was done with his paper. It was nice to hear his sibling so enthusiastic though, so Lambert just sat there listening, interjecting the appropriate noises to keep him going until the sun started to set and Geralt finally said, “And that’s all I’ve got for you, now. Unless you want Ciri stories, but I probably need to get started on dinner since Jaskier’s coming in late and Yenn’s keeping her occupied.” </p><p>“Fair enough,” Lambert said. “Still weird about horses.” </p><p>“I love you too,” Geralt snickered. “Talk to you soon.” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah…” </p><p>Aiden showed up about the time that dinner (curry, two different levels of spice to adjust for Aiden’s weak taste buds) was finishing up, and Lambert heard the door shut. It was immediately followed by a whined, “Laaaaambert?” </p><p>Lambert poked his head around  to see Aiden looking at him with big, doleful eyes. “Yeah?” </p><p>“I may swoon,” Aiden said petulantly, and Lambert just laughed, walking over to hug him instead. Aiden shoved his face against his chest and let out a loud groan. </p><p>“Just ask for a hug like a normal person, fuck’s sake,” Lambert said, and Aiden nestled against him. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” he muttered, still obviously peeved about something. “That’s no fun.” </p><p>“Fair enough. Come on, I’ve got dinner done.” </p><p>Gods, they were getting so fucking domestic. Aiden sulked most of the way through dinner, brightening up when Lambert got him talking (read: ranting) about the show they were doing, which was essentially being billed as a speed-run production of the Keracki epic Ballad of The Siren and thus had something to do with silk dances and leaping kicks and high pitched operatic solos. One of the professors had gotten the rights to perform it on the condition it was to be finished before the end of the second month of their classes, and everyone had rushed in to work on it since it was rarely permitted to be performed outside of Kerack. </p><p>Aiden’s portion of work was teaching some of the freshmen new to theater some introductory ballet so they could properly be in the chorus, and he was running into issues. </p><p>“They aren’t <em>conditioned for this</em>,” he insisted through a mouth of rice. “S’not fair to them and I’m worried they’re gonna get hurt, ugh, I'm going to have to do so much work to make sure they're safe. And I have to keep convincing them not to try and do anything crazy with the chorus choreography and it’s just a mess. They’re babies, all of them.” </p><p>“Ah, yes, you of your many years of 23, ancient and decrepit,” Lambert drawled. Aiden kicked him under the table. </p><p>“I’m a proper adult, I’m married and everything,” Aiden said with great dignity. “They all think it’s very romantic, us staying married for the child.” </p><p>Lambert paused. “Excuse me.” </p><p>Aiden grinned. “The Code Historic, Internal Landsmen’s Duties, or the Kaedweni Tax Code as it’s known today. The Code Historic is it’s fancy old name from before the Caingorn campaigns absorbed all those little countries.” He flipped his hair dramatically, beaming at him. “I did some research and found out just <em>so</em> much weird stuff about Kaedwen’s tax history.” </p><p>Lambert stared at him, a slow smile growing on his face. “We are going to get so much mileage out of this.” </p><p>“We <em>are</em>.” </p><p>They danced to proper music that night, Aiden taking the opportunity to teach him some new, simpler dances before Aiden brought up the concept of hosting a small party in their place after the show was over. </p><p>“I want to have people over,” Aiden whined, leaning into his space as Lambert finished scrubbing his face clean. </p><p>“Theater people,” Lambert grumbled, finding the nearest towel to get the water off.”</p><p>“Theater people are still people,” Aiden laughed. “Despite what certain rumors may have led you to believe! I will grant you that they’re all a bit chaotic and over the top, though, but that’s the arts for you. I’d like to have a small get together with 8 of my closest friends, so we should probably at least buy folding chairs for 20 since they’ll all inevitably bring people.” </p><p>Lambert made a face. “We still don’t have decent furniture for the balcony, I don’t want nothing but folding chairs to sit on.” </p><p>“Fine,” Aiden said, sighing dramatically. “I guess we can go look at furniture for the patio. Are you sure we can’t go to-” </p><p>“We are <em>not</em> going to that cesspit of cheap mass manufacturing for furniture, Eskel and Geralt would never let me live it down,” Lambert said firmly, tossing the washcloth into the laundry basket in the corner. “Soft furnishings at best and we can do better than <em>Ikea</em> for soft furnishings, honestly, they don’t have the quality level I want in my fucking house, they never take the time to trim the threads and it drives me nuts, I took Jaskier there once and wanted to die the entire time, how people can spend their money when you can get triple the quality for a quarter the price, though they did have some great patterns for their bedspreads, I have to admit-” </p><p>Aiden grinned, leaning on the sink as Lambert hunted down his floss. “You’re so adorable when you’re all worked up about everything. There’s nothing funnier to me than you, all six feet and too much muscle and mad about throw pillows and curtains and real wood furniture and just… aggressively flossing your teeth at me.” </p><p>Lambert glared. “<em>Oral hygiene is important,</em>” he growled around the floss and fingers in his mouth, and Aiden laughed, leaning into his space and reaching up to casually shove Lambert’s hair out of his eyes where it had fallen forward. </p><p>“You’re so cute, honestly,” Aiden said fondly, patting his cheek. “Got me all weak kneed. I may-” </p><p>“Ohyoufucker.” </p><p>“-Swoon,” Aiden finished, cackling as Lambert spat out his floss to catch him. </p><p>The idea of furniture stuck, though, and Lambert found himself at a vintage and secondhand furniture store a few days later when Aiden was still at rehearsal, his papers finished and a weird little need gnawing at him. He wandered through endless stacks of chairs, couches, desks, and dressers, noting a couple sets of patio furniture that might be suitable and a much nicer dining table that he could probably talk himself into getting. </p><p>He stopped when he reached the chaise lounges, and sighed. </p><p>“It was always this, wasn’t it?” he muttered, and started looking around with grim determination. </p><p>It didn’t take long for him to find one. It had thick, sturdy legs and a wide seat, the angle of the loung perfect for naps, and it fit his long legs with room to spare so it would be plenty large for Aiden. This chaise was backed, the warm indigo upholstery contrasting the light brown wood. It was vaguely Skelligen in design, with blocky detailing and carved details on the legs and along the edges of the back, notes of flowers and texture leaving it masculine without overbearing. </p><p>And, Lambert thought as he tested how sturdy it was, it was sturdy enough to be fucked on, which was a near guarantee at some point. Aiden did not seem the kind of person given to celibacy. </p><p>The piece wasn’t too expensive, it had probably been there a while, so he grabbed the tag and paused on his way up to the check out when he spotted a standing lamp with a swinging arm and very weird shade. Out of curiosity, he flipped it on, and cackled when he saw that the design, when lit up, looked like it was casting dicks on the floor. He grabbed the lamp to go with it, and picked up a coordinated fluffy tan blanket and a snake plant with a stand from another store with the reassurance that the chaise would be delivered quickly. </p><p>It was, so fast he suspected magical involvement, and it took very little time to get everything set up in a far corner, and he’d just managed to finish fussing with getting the blanket laid out nicely when he heard the key turn in the door and skidded to intercept Aiden as he pushed the door open. </p><p>“Oh, holy shit, hi,” Aiden said, startled as Lambert pulled the door open. </p><p>“I got you something,” he said, grinning, and Aiden raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“I- Okay? Did I need somethi…” He stepped through the door and his voice trailed off. He immediately dropped his bag next to the door, carelessly kicking off his shoes as he stared at the chaise lounge.”</p><p>Well,” he said as Aiden stared. “You said we needed more furniture, and you said I could get you more. So I did.” </p><p>“You are such a menace,” Aiden breathed, and immediately climbed onto it to sprawl, groaning in delighted comfort and wiggling. He beamed, reaching up to turn the standing lamp on, and cackled in delight when he saw the patterns thrown by the colorful shade. The ultra soft blanket found its way off of the back to cover him, and he made a happy little noise before reaching out with grabbing hands. “Come <em>here</em>, sit with me, I want to hold you.” </p><p>Lambert went, because he was helpless to do anything else when Aiden was that excited, and allowed himself to be manhandled into position. The chaise really was very comfortable, and Aiden sighed in very happy contentment as Lambert settled against him, head resting on Aiden’s shoulder. </p><p>“I need to make stupid jokes more often, I guess,” he mused, “if I get comfy chairs out of it.”</p><p>“Told you there’d be something to catch you, thought I’d better prove it. But be nice to my wallet,” Lambert said, but the exhaustion of the week was catching up to him. He shoved his nose against Aiden’s collarbone, eyes falling shut as Aiden’s sandalwood and spice cologne reached his nose and flipped all the stupid little levers that his brain had started registering with <em>home, safe, warm</em>. Aiden’s fingers found his hair, fussing with the ends, and that was it. He was done for. “Wake me up for dinner.” </p><p>They skipped dinner entirely, because it was dawn when they both woke up next, and as Aiden sleepily finger combed through his hair while they slowly came back awake Lambert realized that it was entirely possible that he never, ever wanted to stop living with Aiden if it meant being pampered like this. </p><p>At least, right up until Aiden said, with deep fascination, “I think I drooled in your hair while we were asleep.” </p><p>On second thought, Lambert thought as he bodily heaved Aiden onto the floor, marriage was shit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lambert: I have performed a husbandly duty and purchased a gift for my spouse.<br/>Aiden: You've ruined a perfectly average traumatized man's perception of acceptable romantic gestures is what you've done.<br/>Aiden: Look at me, I've got heart palpitations.</p><p>(I too am going to get a lot of mileage out of the CHILD joke.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Vesemir and Lambert divulge secrets.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for this chapter because I jumped straight into some ancestral trauma: mentions of child labor leading to death via neglect and the sale of children as laborers (Vesemir's past), light discussion of canonical child abuse and domestic violence (Lambert), and parental death (Lambert's mother).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m telling Vesemir today,” Lambert said over breakfast as the week of midterms dawned with cold, bitter terror and a lashing rain. “I’ve got a free day, my philosophy paper is already in and my labs aren’t due until later this week.” </p><p>“Sounds good,” Aiden said, taking another one of the pancakes. He was still sleep rumpled, half dozing even as he ate. He yawned, showing off half chewed food, and Lambert made a face. “Let me know how it goes. I know he lives a distance from the city, will you be back for dinner or should I expect to be here, tragically all on my lonesome, languishing on my lovely new chaise and dreaming endlessly for my darling husband’s return from the wilds?” </p><p>“I’ll be back around 9, probably. Could be later.” </p><p>“Cool. Do we have blueberries?” </p><p>Lambert started the drive after his lectures feeling mostly fine, the ring on his left hand reassuring, but about halfway through the city the first wiggling, gnawing uncertainties started pressing up in his chest. </p><p>None of Vesemir’s children were… normal. At least, not by the standards set up by most kinds of places. Eskel had no desire at all for a permanent romantic partner, content with his goats and his daughter and sometimes his friend Triss flitting into his life for a while. He fucked who he liked when he wanted and went home alone and called that a day. Meanwhile Geralt had at least two permanent, committed partners, and still slept around once in a while, and said partners did the same even while raising their child. </p><p>And Lambert. Well. Lambert had had Keira, for a while, who everyone liked, and they were still friends but it hadn’t worked out for them. And after that he’d more or less given up, because he didn’t know what else to do about it, really. It took a long time and a lot of trust and emotional connection before sex was on the table, and most people weren’t comfortable with that. So. No point in a relationship.</p><p>Lambert sat at a stop light, heart in his throat, and thought about the possibility that Vesemir might be angry Lambert hadn’t divorced Aiden so he could have a fair chance at a real relationship and almost turned around to go back home. </p><p>But the light changed, and flipping a u-turn in this traffic sounded like a bad idea, so he stayed put in his lane. </p><p>They were all just going to have to deal, him included. Aiden wanted them to know, and that was that. They’d just have to deal with the consequences as they came.</p><p>Vesemir’s house was on the edge of the wilderness, butting up against the edge of the Preserve at the base of the mountains. The property was sprawling, fenced in with a simple rail fence, and up the long driveway the house stood in a copse of trees. It was a decent sized log house, long and mostly flat with a pitched roof and an enormous porch out front with bone wind chimes festooned with brightly colored charms against monsters. The chimneys were both sending up smoke, and Lambert parked in the big 5 car garage that was once a stable before making his way in through the back door late in the afternoon.</p><p>The house was as it always was. It was a cozy den of a house, full of overstuffed furniture and thick rugs and furs to bundle up in. There was a main level with a kitchen and dining area, and then a few steps down led to a sunken living room section that had been most of where they spent their time indoors. It was mostly one massive room with a staircase leading up to the loft bedroom that had housed Geralt and Eskel once Lambert had moved in near the entryway, two smaller bedrooms on the main floor opposite from the level area of the dining room, and big picture windows in the back that looked out at the mountains, back porch, lawn, horse corral, and training grounds. The fireplace set into the corner was a massive one, and Lambert had spent many hours asleep in front of it through his childhood. </p><p>Vesemir was reading in one of the big chairs, dressed in his usual clothes. There was something reassuring about Vesemir in his pink reading glasses, a pair Lambert had jokingly grabbed him as a gift years before and he’d never let go of, his quilted dark green flannel coat sitting on top of a very traditional linen shirt with lacing and his dark jeans, the leather and sheepskin slippers on his feet. He looked comfortable, and he had obviously heard and identified Lambert as the knife on the table beside him remained in its sheath. </p><p>Lambert swallowed hard. Well, nothing for it. </p><p>"Dad?"</p><p>Vesemir's head snapped up so fast Lambert was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. He was out of his chair in an instant, reaching out with worried eyes as he bounded up to the main level, and Lambert's heart collapsed in on itself as Vesemir's big, scarred hands found his face. </p><p>"You haven't called me that since you were 14 and that harpy attacked you and Geralt," Vesemir said, sounding terrified. "What's happened?”</p><p>Lambert shook his head, blinking down the sudden well of emotion. Fuck. It was one thing to know Vesemir cared, and another thing entirely to be held like this. “I have to tell you something, and you’re probably gonna be mad at me.” </p><p>Vesemir’s thumbs gently soothed over his cheeks, eyes turning- not gentle, exactly, but calmer. “Child of mine, if me being mad had ever stopped you from doing something I would surely like to know what it was, because you’re nigh to as bullheaded as I am and I doubt anything short of jail time would stop you when you set your mind on something. Tell me, and then we can see if it’s even something worth being mad over, because if you’re this upset I’m mostly just worried. Come, sit down, tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it as we always do, piece by piece.” </p><p>Lambert let himself be gently situated on the couch, Vesemir sitting down next to him. He took a deep breath, picking up one of the throw pillows. “So, I… I didn’t plan this, first of all. It was a complete accident, even if it was a really stupid accident. Everything just kind of fell into place and then we just decided it was fine and it’s working out great but. Uh. Aiden, who you met the other day.” </p><p>“Ah,” Vesemir said, and he sounded oddly knowing. “Yes, who lives with you. Nice young man. Very pretty.” </p><p>“He is, isn’t he,” Lambert said, distracted. “Great bone structure.” </p><p>Vesemir sat back against the couch, watching him. He looked very thoughtful and almost resigned, and Lambert wasn’t really sure why. “And Aiden is married, as Eskel kindly informed me, not that the ring didn’t give it away.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, swallowing hard. “Aiden’s married. But what Eskel doesn’t know is who he’s married to.” </p><p>Vesemir nodded for him to go on, watching his face. “No, he didn’t say.” </p><p>“That’s because Eskel doesn’t know that it’s me.” </p><p>There was a long, long pause as Vesemir blinked at him. Lambert could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a discordant thumping rhythm of mild panic. Vesemir’s brow furrowed in thought, and then he said, with ponderous slowness, “You?” </p><p>“Me.” </p><p>“You.” </p><p>“That’s right.” </p><p>Vesemir looked up at the ceiling, at the fireplace, and back at Lambert, still incredibly baffled. “You’re married.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, and lifted one shaking hand to show him the sterling silver ring. Vesemir stared, reaching out to take his hand and look at it. Lambert let him, and started babbling. “It was an accident. It was a series of accidents, actually, and it’s kind of my fault because I had stamps in my wallet and 50 crowns and I only needed to send in 35, apparently, but there was this rehearsal for a student film they were doing with a wedding scene and-” </p><p>Vesemir held up his hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, slow down. Start from the top, and tell me everything.” </p><p>And so Lambert did. He went over the whole convoluted mess of it, starting with Aiden rushing out of the building and ending with their blackout drunk night and getting the call from the courthouse a few days later. Vesemir listened with rapt attention, even chuckling a few times at some of the more ridiculous moments, and when Lambert had finished he shook his head and started to laugh for real.</p><p>“Only you,” he said between chuckles. “Only you would manage something like this. Oh, beautiful. This is beautiful.” </p><p>Lambert squeezed the pillow, a little uncertain. “So… you’re not mad?” </p><p>“Mad? No, if anything I’m relieved,” Vesemir said, smiling at him. “Lambert… you moved in with a married man and brought him to a family gathering, and you were comfortable enough with him to have him rest his head on your shoulder and dote on him openly. You’ve been spending a lot of money and time on him, enough that even Geralt’s mentioned it to me. We thought you were having an affair with him.”</p><p>Lambert’s jaw dropped and he spluttered in shocked alarm. “I- WHAT!?” </p><p>“Eskel’s convinced Aiden was being abused by his husband and you took him in to give him a way out,” Vesemir continued, grinning wickedly. “Jaskier insisted to me that it was truly love and Aiden must be in a loveless marriage and wanted to get out and just hasn’t gotten around to filing the paperwork. Geralt… well, I’ll let you find out from Geralt what he thinks, you’ll get a kick out of it.” </p><p>Lambert stared at him. “And… what about you?” </p><p>Vesemir coughed, looking back at the fireplace. “I… thought it was rather bittersweet, my son who loves so rarely falling for a married man and it being reciprocated. Very romantic, in a harlequin novel kind of way.” </p><p>“Oh my fucking <em>gods</em>, you’re all awful,” Lamber shrieked, burying his face in the pillow and screaming a little. A thought occurred to him and he smothered his grin before pulling the pillow away. “Terrible, all of you. Besides, we’re only staying together for the child.” </p><p>The look on Vesemir’s face at those words was priceless, and Lambert barely managed to keep a straight face as he watched Vesemir’s expression cycle frantically through shock, alarm, mild horror, and settle on barely masked concern. </p><p>“I was unaware Aiden was capable of carrying children,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere to the side of Lambert’s head. “Will he be alright? It won’t be too damaging mentally?” </p><p>“Oh, Aiden’s fine to carry children, he’s got a good back,” Lambert said, thinking of him picking up Ciri and having to smother his grin wholeheartedly. And, fuck, it was sweet of him to worry like that. “As for the child, well, we’ll probably have to get someone to help out since it’s the first year and all, I have no idea how many forms we’ll have to fill out. Probably have to get a professional. But, you know, the benefits are incredible, Kaedwen’s really got a great system in place.” </p><p>Vesemir looked absolutely poleaxed, and Lambert added, with merciless glee, “By the way, did you know the Kaedweni Tax code used to be called Code Historic, Internal Landsmen’s Duties?” </p><p>It took Vesemir a second, but when he got it he let out a whoop of relief and buried his face in his hands as Lambert started cackling with delight. Vesemir kicked him in the shin, making Lambert laugh harder, and when he sat back up Lambert beamed at him. </p><p>“You never did grow out of that bastard phase,” Vesemir said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Oh, you gave me a fright.” </p><p>“I know, me, with kids? Terrifying. And no, Aiden’s lacking any sort of womb, don’t worry, you won’t have any miniature versions of me running around if I can help it. Great at picking up and carrying kids, though. We won’t have any surprise kids even if we were having sex, which we’re not, and which is also none of your concern.” Lambert sat back, and sighed in relief. “Fuck, you’re taking this much better than I thought you would. I was worried you were going to be mad at me for not getting a divorce so he’d be free for a real relationship.” </p><p>Vesemir considered him for a minute, and then said carefully, “If I hadn’t seen you together first, I would have likely been upset. But… well. I have seen you. You both seem happy, and the relationship seems to be going well, so I don’t mind at all. You both seem steady and stable, and you care for each other, so I’m content. I assume you have an agreement in the same way that Geralt has with his two, for dating?” </p><p>“Yeah, something like that,” Lambert said. “He doesn’t really date, and neither do I, so it’s fine.” </p><p>Vesemir sighed. “A healthy relationship, loving, caring, gentle, and all of that, does not have to have sex to still be romantic,” he said pointedly. “Think about that, problem child.” </p><p>Lambert scowled, squeezing the pillow to his chest. “We’re not talking about this.” </p><p>Vesemir rolled his eyes but let it go. “Well, regardless, he’s my son-in-law now, so bring him over some time so I can meet him properly. The dinner was fine but I didn’t know then, and I’d like to actually talk to him. I assume you’re going to be telling your siblings soon?” </p><p>“Soon,” he promised, and Vesemir nodded before needling him into helping with dinner. </p><p>It was a bit surreal, working on dinner prep and bickering with Vesemir. They moved in tandem around the kitchen, a dance they’d done a million times, and Lambert found himself pulling the milk from the fridge and pausing when he saw one of the pictures hanging on it from a magnet. It was old, a black and white photo of him about 9 or 10, a few months after he’d been brought to Vesemir’s care. His nose had been freshly healed, a little crooked from the break. Gweld had taken it, he remembered, when they were sitting on the back porch. He was skinny and all hard angles, eyes like ice cubes, but there was a soft uncertainty under it. </p><p>He plucked the picture off of the fridge, holding it gently. </p><p>The story went like this; Rogir Basrason beat his wife and his son. Rogir Basrason went out for a drink. Rogir Basrason was given a ride home by one unimpressed Vesemir Wilkson, very out of his way, and did not have gas money. Rogir Basrason offered him the Law of Surprise- the first thing he saw when he got home, he could have. Rogir Basrason had forgotten his keys, and Lambert Rogirson opened the door and legally became the Surprise Child of one Vesemir Wilkson, who took one look at his two black eyes, recently broken nose, and probably broken finger and called the Regional Child Services, who also took one look at him and took him away. And Vesemir got a very lovely surprise when the State called to inform him that the spell monitoring any Child Surprise claims had spat out his name, and he now had a new son to care for until the legal system could do its job. </p><p>Destiny was kind of a bitch like that. </p><p>The legal system had done its job. Rogir Basrason was stripped of his claim to his biological child, and Vesemir adopted him formally at age 13 with his mother’s blessing and attendance just 5 months before her passing. Lambert had chosen to take Vesemir’s name, because “wolf son” was better than “Rogir son” any day of the week, and because his mother asked him not to take hers.  </p><p>Gweld had only lived with him for a year before he went back to his family, and they moved from Kaedwen all the way to Cintra. He was busy, successful, but Eskel and Geralt had historically made time to go down and visit for a week each year. Lambert hadn’t. He wasn’t certain how he felt about this brother-who-never was. </p><p>He hung the picture back up, and went to get his boots when Vesemir called that he was heading out to feed Mathilde. </p><p>“Gweld and his lady are moving again, to Cidaris,” Vesemir said as he pulled on his boots and laced them up in the back hall. “She’s found a position doing research on the coast, which is lovely for them. Looks like Ciri might have a cousin near her age, soon.” </p><p>Lambert started lacing his own boots, and after a moment asked, quietly, “Do you… do you ever wish you’d kept Gweld? And not me?” </p><p>Vesemir sat up, turning to give him a long look. “Lambert,” he said after a moment. “If it had been right and safe to turn you back to your ma, I would have. Gweld’s mother cleaned up and got her life together once she dumped his sack of shit daddy to the curb, and that’s why he went back to her. By the time Celeste was free of your father, she knew she wasn’t long for the world. And I knew it too. We did everything we could to give you time together before she went, and if it had been… if it had been possible, and she’d been well, and strong, I would have sent you home with her and checked on you once in a while, and you’d have had cousins instead of brothers. But that wasn’t meant to be. So, no, I do not wish I’d kept Gweld, and I am glad that you are my son. Gweld counts himself your sibling too, even if you aren’t close, and his name will be on my headstone to count among my children when I go.” </p><p>Lambert nodded, looking down at the floor, and pressed his lips together tight when Vesemir ruffled his hair with one huge hand, always so big no matter how old he was, and went to fetch one of the spare silver swords he’d trained with from the hooks by the door, buckling it around his hips. </p><p>Vesemir slung his sword set over his back, never a bad idea this close to the mountains in the dark, and they walked out to the barn together. Vesemir grew quieter as they reached it. </p><p>Mathilde spotted them coming up the path and whickered at them, plodding her slow way up to the barn. She was getting very old, nearly 30, and had been a staple of Lambert’s childhood along with Geralt’s fiery bay Roach (the first Roach) and Eskel’s even tempered, all black Scorpion. Mathilde was a leopard-spot horse, white with circular splotches all over, and had been the horse Lambert had learned to ride on. </p><p>Lambert flicked on the lamps and went to start gathering Mathilde’s hay flakes, Vesemir said, “Promised myself I’d talk to you about this once you either graduated or got married, and both of those things snuck up on me sooner than expected. So. Guess it’s time.”</p><p>He measured out her feed as Lambert rubbed her nose and chucked the hay in, and with that done he sat down on a bale to wait. Vesemir poured the feed into the bucket and sighed, standing there and watching the horse. </p><p>“Your brothers don’t know this,” he said at last. “I’m not… I’m not ready for them to know. So don’t go blabbing.” </p><p>“I won’t,” Lambert said, watching him. Vesemir fingered the edge of his coat, licking his lips. </p><p>“I was 9, same age as you were when everything went wrong,” he started, as if the words were being dragged from somewhere deep, deep down. “And my father sold me to a wealthy farmer in Caingorn for 18 crowns and a barrel of apples.” </p><p>The soft snuffling of Mathilde as she ate her grain was the only sound in the barn. Vesemir swallowed, running a shaking hand over the curve of her neck, still not looking at him. Lambert couldn’t breathe. He didn’t think he could even blink. </p><p>“It was different, then,” Vesemir continued eventually, his voice raspy. “I knew. I understood. It was all under the table, and I was going to be sent to an orchard, one of the big ones, and climb trees until I fell and broke something and wasn’t worth keeping any more. Of course, legally I was simply going to a boarding school. Lots of us like that. “Boarders” who went to the farms and worked until they broke their neck falling or what have you. Then it was simply, “sorry for your loss,” to the families and they found another boy to use up. I was in the fields four years before I caught the attention of one of the owner’s sons. He wanted a partner his size to fence with, and wouldn’t be told no, so I was brought to the house and learned to fence with him. I behaved. Got educated. Did whatever I was told, for better or worse. Got through it alive with the rest of my cohort dead, and the second I turned 18 and was free of them I ran. Came all the way here from Caingorn on foot, and came to this weedy patch of land with a ramshackle barn on it at least a century old, and I lived in that barn until I managed to pull together enough money from whatever odd jobs I could pull together to buy this terrible hardscrabble plot, and I ripped down that barn with my bare hands and built the house, instead, log by fucking log, and not a once have I ever regretted taking you or Gweld or Eskel or Geralt, not once, because you might fight and fuss and give me trouble but I will <em>never</em> fear you bleeding out in an orchard, not without knowing how to fight back against anything, monster or man, that would take you.” </p><p>Lambert stood up and strode to him, dragging him into a hug. </p><p>He had no words. There was nothing he could say, so he just held his father, and let himself be held in return until the chill was biting at them and Vesemir pulled away to wipe his eyes clear and lead them back to the house. </p><p>When they were back inside, Vesemir said gruffly, “Sorry to put that on you. I haven’t… No one’s known since I moved here. I never talked about it.” </p><p>“I mean…” Lambert said, still reeling. “It does explain why you always bought pears instead of apples for snacks.” </p><p>There was a brief, horrified pause in which he evaluated all of his life choices and wondered if Vesemir was going to take off his sword and just end him right then and there, and then Vesemir started to laugh, burying his face in his hands against the helpless giggles he was making. Lambert groaned, sitting down hard. </p><p>“Oh, thank fuck, that was-” </p><p>Vesemir waved him off, still cackling, and went to hang up his swords. </p><p>They talked about mostly innocuous things over dinner. Lambert told him about his papers and the local university gossip, and Vesemir got him up to speed with what was currently going on with the Preserve and his few, carefully selected students of fencing who were looking towards going on to get their own licensing. </p><p>It was as they were cleaning up the dishes that Vesemir asked, “Would Aiden want to learn, do you think?” </p><p>“Fencing?” Lambert snorted. “Yes, unfortunately. Any time I do practices he sits there watching. I was thinking about it the other day.” </p><p>“If you want to take some practice weapons, you’re free to the Walnut set,” Vesemir said, rinsing out a pan. “My pupils have their own sets, so I won’t be needing them for a while. See if he likes it, and if he does, I have times open. He’s a dancer, judging by that carriage of his, so he’d do wonders with Cat style training if he wants. And if he ever wants to go up for a while in the Preserve, and further than the maintained trails at least, he needs at least some fighting instruction.” </p><p>Lambert leaned on the countertop, watching Vesemir scrub out the pan. “And what if he doesn’t?” </p><p>Vesemir shrugged. “Then he doesn’t, and we find other ways to include him. But Yennefer and Jaskier still both go at times, though they don’t do deep woods work, and even Triss does, so it seems a logical leap. Let me know.” </p><p>“Sounds good. Oh, shit, I was going to borrow your schematics books to show him the Cat armor,” Lambert remembered, and headed to the dining room where the endless bookshelves covered the walls to go find it. The schematics weren’t hard to find, and he pulled out the massive tome to lug back out with him. Vesemir raised an eyebrow at him, and Lambert elaborated, “He has an old metal Witcher figure that’s got pretty accurate Cat armor. Thought I’d show him some real examples.” </p><p>“Ahhh, yes,” Vesemir said, and held up a finger. He vanished into his bedroom and came back with another metal Witcher figure, this one crudely painted in a mess of colors. It was wearing what was probably meant to be Bear gear. “Like this?” </p><p>“Looks about the same age and style,” Lambert nodded, taking the little Bear. </p><p>“They were mass produced at the start of industrialization,” Vesemir explained. “About, oh… 150 years old, now. They’ve held up surprisingly well, you can find them in online auction sites sometimes. Guxart sent me this one as a joke, which I will not be explaining, thank you.” </p><p>Lambert snorted. “Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with this being a Bear Witcher?” </p><p>“Absolutely not in the slightest,” Vesemir agreed, plucking it back out of his hands. “He’s officially Head of Wildlife Management at the Stygga Preserve, now.” </p><p>“Look at him go,” Lambert mused. Guxart had been something of an uncle to them, a licensed hunter that got on well with Vesemir and an excellent teacher in tracking. Lambert had always vaguely thought there might have been something that could have been more, there, but by the time he was old enough to really wonder about it Guxart had moved down to Ebbing after he was offered a position by the Stygga Preserve. He knew Vesemir still wrote to him, but, well. </p><p>Vesemir had always been quiet about his life. Lambert watched him walk back to his room, the smallest in the house, the broad slope of his back still broad and reassuring. He would talk at length about the outdoors, or fencing, or his children, and he had been eager and willing to teach them whatever they liked and tolerated learning new things to help them learn too. He had learned lacemaking when Lambert had suddenly developed an interest in it, taught Geralt with a modicum of patience as he tried (and failed, horribly) to learn carpentry, and bore with Eskel’s sudden desire to learn the trombone with as much longsuffering grace as anyone. But he never talked about himself. If pressed, Lambert wasn’t certain he could even give his favorite color. </p><p>When Vesemir had returned from replacing the Bear, he gathered his nerve and asked, “Why?” </p><p>“Hmm?” </p><p>Lambert gestured vaguely. “Why tell me? Why not Geralt, or Eskel? You don’t talk about shit, why with me?” </p><p>Vesemir looked down at the wooden floor, hand coming up to cup his elbow. It was a small, closed of motion, something that he had seen Vesemir do a thousand times when he thought no one was looking. He looked tired, and he said quietly, “I thought… out of all of them, you’d be the one most likely to understand. Geralt would make it something beautiful, something about survival. Eskel would want to protect me. You, though. You would get it. You know what it is to survive. I didn’t want to carry it all the way to my grave, without at least one person knowing.” </p><p>Lambert swallowed hard, and walked over to hug him again. Vesemir hugged him back, strong arms as solid now as they had been when he was a screaming, furious nine year old mess with a mother who couldn’t keep him and a father who probably would have sold him, too. </p><p>“Now I know,” he said, quiet, and pressed his face up against the soft flannel of his quilted jacket. “And I understand.” </p><p>Vesemir let out a shaken sigh, and let himself be held. </p><p>When he finally got back to the apartment, he could see the lights on. The bottom two apartments still hadn’t rented, leaving them the solitary occupants of the building, and from the parking space Lambert could see Aiden working through a ballet routine. The warm golden light of the apartment shone quiet reassurance in the dark, and he gathered up the schematics book and the walnut practice sword. Soft strains of music trickled down the stairs as he climbed, and when he opened the door to the warmth of the apartment Aiden was mid leap, painted into golden relief as the music swelled. </p><p>He landed. The song ended. Lambert set the book and practice sword on the couch and cleared his throat as Aiden shut off the music and looked at him expectantly. </p><p>“I…” he hesitated, and then just opened his arms. Aiden was there in a heartbeat, holding him tight. </p><p>“Did it not go well?” Aiden asked, worried, and Lambert shook his head, letting it drop onto his shoulder. </p><p>“Nah, he wants to get to know you better, he already likes you. I just… I found out some things today. And I don’t know how to deal with them yet.” </p><p>“Want to put on swimsuits, grab some of that cheap wine and pretend we’re at some super ridiculous spa in the jet tub?” Aiden suggested, scratching gently through his hair. </p><p>“You have the best ideas.” Lambert pulled back, feeling his heart already lighter. Aiden smiled up at him, guileless and bright in his reassurance. “I have to tell you about how I did the child joke, you’re going to love it. And when that’s done we can look at the schematics book, and if I’m up for it tonight… maybe I’ll show you some basic sword moves, because I brought some practice gear back for you.” </p><p>Aiden’s eyes went wide, and he spun around, looking to see the two walnut blades in their sheaths and strapped to the chest harness. “Really?” </p><p>“Really.” </p><p>Aiden grabbed his hand, towing him towards the bathroom and already talking a mile a minute. Lambert let himself be pulled, quiet contentment sinking in, and when Aiden splashed in next to him with a woop and two glasses of the truly very cheap wine they kept for emergencies such as this, Lambert felt some tangled knot around his heart ease.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Of particular note- This chapter is very close to my heart. Vesemir's story is shared by 4 (that we know) of my direct relatives on my father's side. Two of my great-great uncles were sold, one of my great-aunts, and one of my father's cousins was pulled from school and sent directly away. Gweld's story is that of my mother's family- a great many of my aunts and uncles were unable to be adopted for various reasons, but they're still my family too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lambert and Aiden meet some goats.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: mentions of neglect and abuse, mentions of Lambert's dad being violent, allusions to sexual abuse without much detail.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Saturday dawned bright and clear at the end of the week, officially freeing them from midterm stress, Lambert just about screamed with relief. It had been a long semester so far, and it wasn’t likely to get any shorter. </p><p>Once Aiden had finally stumbled out of bed to beg him for bacon (which he obliged, because he also wanted bacon) and they ate at the kitchen table that he really should replace, Lambert said, “What do you think about going to visit Eskel and Deidre today?” </p><p>Aiden immediately brightened, shoving his dishes in the dishwasher. “Can we?” </p><p>“I’ll text him to see if Deidre’s up for company,” Lambert said, and Aiden made a sort of happy wiggling motion that made him laugh. He found his phone and dropped onto the couch, immediately joined by Aiden, who bullied him into sprawling out so Aiden could flop on top of him like a blanket. Admittedly it didn’t take much bullying, and Lambert was starting to think that both of them might, in fact, have some touch starvations issues. </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
oi let me come over and see my niece<br/>
also aiden wants to come<br/>
is she up for it </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
brb let me ask </p><p>Aiden started humming absently, and Lambert relaxed into the soft comfort of the couch. He was almost asleep when his phone pinged again. </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
sources say yes<br/>
we do have to go get groceries today tho<br/>
so you might have to come with </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
tragic<br/>
how ever will we survive </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
your life is just so hard, little man </p><p>“We’re good to go visit,” Lambert said, tossing his phone aside. “Later. Because I want a nap. We can take the schematics tome too, I bet Deidre would be curious about it...” </p><p>Aiden was already asleep. </p><p>It was nearly noon by the time they both woke back up, somewhat groggy and disoriented. Aiden stumbled into his bedroom to get dressed, and Lambert fished out the maroon shirt with the flowers and a semi decent pair of jeans out of his closet before grabbing his boots and his patch covered jacket. Aiden reappeared in extremely cozy looking black joggers and an oversized dark blue sweater that kept sliding off his shoulder to reveal the tank top he had underneath, his hair pulled up in the half up half down ponytail style that Geralt tended to favor. He looked unbelievably comfortable. </p><p>“I’m not leaving this house until you put a coat on,” Lambert informed him. </p><p>“It’ll be fine!” </p><p>“No, you’re going to catch a cold and whine at me for a week if you go out like that, go get a coat.” </p><p>Aiden rolled his eyes, walking back into the bedroom. “You’re such a mother hen!” </p><p>“Yeah, and I never get sick!” </p><p>Aiden reemerged in a comfortable jacket, sticking out his tongue as he did, and Lambert grinned in triumph. </p><p>Eskel’s house was on the far end of town, past the suburbs and just at the very edge of civilization where the houses were either mansions or farms. The last bus stop was a half mile from the house, just close enough to the city for Eskel to get the things he needed without being so close he had overly interested neighbors or, gods all forbid, an HOA. The house itself was classically Kaedweni, with a fenced in pasture towards the front with goats bounding up and down logs and ramps that he’d placed there for them and a multitude of trees. The house was in the middle, more or less, with yet more trees around the lawn, and another set of pastures and barns out behind it and to the side. The house itself was a sturdy red brick with a pitched roof and gables, shutters on the windows for when the snows got extreme, and had a large front porch. They parked by Eskel’s bulky black truck and climbed out, and Lambert was immediately set upon by Lil Bleater.</p><p>“Bleater, this is mine, not yours,” he barked, pulling his shirt tails from her curious mouth. “Knock it off, you know better.” </p><p>Aiden was staring with wide eyes, and inched around the car. He squeaked in alarm as Bleater trotted to him and stretched out her head to try and eat his jacket. Lambert caught her by the horn, tugging her around, and she came back to examine him again without much complaint, sniffing and trying to nibble at his clothes. Aiden inched closer, eyes wide.</p><p>“This is Lil Bleater,” Lambert sighed. “Eskel’s other child. He bottle raised her and she thinks she’s a dog. She’s the only one that’s actually a pet, the others are for meat, milk, or breeding.” </p><p>“She’s slightly terrifying but also adorable, which seems to be a running theme with your family,” Aiden said, tentatively reaching out to stroke her thick hair along her back. “Oh! And soft!” </p><p>“I’m not going to comment on that.” Lambert pulled his shirt away from Bleater’s nibbling again, gently scolding, “Go play somewhere else, I need this.” </p><p>Bleater, true to her name, bleated at him in protest. </p><p>“No. Go,” he insisted, pointing at the yard, and Bleater bounded off after another yell of personal complaint to go and menace one of the others through the fence. Aiden grinned, watching her go with absolute fascination. “You’ve never met a goat before, I take it.” </p><p>“Well, there was a school trip when I was a tiny little kid, but they were all really little and that was a long time ago,” Aiden said, beaming as he watched one of the goats in the main pasture take a fling leap off of a log. “They’re kind of adorable, aren’t they?” </p><p>“They’re terrors, they’re mouthy, and the ones with their balls still intact reek like anything,” Lambert said dryly, “but yeah, they can be cute.” </p><p>“Just like most men, then,” Aiden said sagely, and cackled as Lambert punched him in the arm. </p><p>The back door opened to reveal Eskel, who stepped out to look at them better.</p><p>“Are you two ever coming in?” He called, and Lambert waved him off, walking towards the door. </p><p>Aiden whistled low, keeping his voice down as he said, “Okay, don’t take this the wrong way, but like… he looked nice in a suit but I can see why everyone’s chasing him, hot damn. Why is everyone in your family so damn hot? Can’t even blame it on genetics.” </p><p>Lambert rolled his eyes. Eskel was in his usual flannel and much-too-tight t-shirt and jeans, looking like every damn romance novel’s farmer love interest. Since his clothes did exactly nothing to hide the sheer amount of bulk he had, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that Aiden was eyeing him with some serious thought. “He’ll break your heart, he’s a one-and-done kinda guy and doesn’t do romance.”</p><p>“He’s welcome to break more than that-” </p><p>“SO NICE TO SEE YOU,” Lambert interjected, glaring at Aiden, who grinned at him unrepentantly. “How’s the goats?” </p><p>Eskel glanced between the two of them and clearly decided not to ask. “Goats are good. Come in already, it’s chilly out here. And Aiden, it’s nice to see you again, welcome to my home.” </p><p>Aiden flashed him a truly blinding smile, and Lambert rolled his eyes as he pushed past his brother into the mud room to get his shoes off. D’yaebl was there, immediately coming to sniff him and demand pets, so it seemed like Beann’shie was the one working. Aiden politely offered his hand to D’yaebl, who sniffed it, sneezed, and then licked it before turning around and trotting back into another room. </p><p>The little living room was where Deidre was at, sitting on the floor in front of the TV and watching some sort of nature documentary with wide eyes. She jumped up when she saw them, running over to hug Lambert tight and then letting him go to hug Aiden, who looked delighted to be included. </p><p>“I’m watching about how seals avoid being hunted by sirens,” she said eagerly. “Want to watch with me?” </p><p>“Yes, of course,” Aiden said immediately, and let Deidre drag him over to sit next to Beann’shie, whose tail thumped as the pair sat down and Deidre started petting him. He was just as big as his brother, a massive black dog with a head as big as a dinner plate and teeth like knives, and D’yaebl went to sit on Aiden’s other side and shove his head in his lap for attention. Lambert eyed that, wondering just how good of an actor Aiden was if D’yaebl had sensed that he needed soothing when Lambert hadn’t spotted it. Well, they could talk about it later. Aiden now safely glued to the TV with Deidre, Lambert made his way back to the kitchen on the other end of the house, which was slightly tucked away but still within view of the living room. Eskel was watching them, smiling a little. </p><p>“Adorable,” he said, and passed Lambert a carrot to peel and cut. “We’re using up the last of what we’ve got for a lunch stew, and then we’re going to get groceries at some point this afternoon. Sound good?” </p><p>“Sure.” Lambert started peeling the carrot, because why not, and they worked quietly for a while before he said, “So I’ve got something to tell you. I already talked to Vesemir about it, so it’s your turn.”</p><p>Eskel hummed, tossing some diced potatoes into a stew pot. “Is that so?” </p><p>“Shut up.” Lambert passed him the chopped up carrots. It was taking everything in his power to keep his voice level and hide his grin. “It’s about Aiden’s husband. We talked about it a few days ago and figured it was time to tell people about… the circumstances of us living together, and how we met, since this kind of all came out of the blue for all of you.” </p><p>“Okay,” Eskel said slowly, setting the stewpot on the stove and turning to look at him properly. “You’ve got my attention. But, uh, real quick… am I going to need to fight off any cuckolded men for you? Because Geralt might be the better person to ask for that, he’s at least got practice.” </p><p>Lambert snickered, thinking of Jaskier’s wide-eyed innocence and Geralt’s deadpan irritation. “Nah. You’ve met his husband, you like him.” </p><p>Eskel blinked. “Excuse me?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, leaning on the counter. “You think he’s fucking great, actually. A big fan of his. And honestly, I really thought you would have figured it out first.” </p><p>Eskel stared. Behind him, the pot began to simmer and steam. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” </p><p>Lambert held up his hand, twiddling his fingers to show off the silver ring, and Eskel’s jaw dropped. </p><p>“Surprise,” Lambert sing-songed. “I told you the first day, and you still didn’t get it! I’m Aiden’s husband. We got married on accident and just decided to roll with it for the sake of the child.” </p><p>“The <em>child</em>?!” </p><p>“Yeah, the Kaedweni Tax code. The Code Historic Internal Landsmen’s Duties. You would not <em>believe</em> the kind of tax breaks they give married people here, it’s fucking amazing, and you get incredible grants. You and Triss should think about it, you’d save a ton of money.” </p><p>Eskel was still staring, jaw dropped, and Lambert went back to cutting up more carrots while he processed. It took another two minutes before Eskel exploded, “<em>But how?!</em>”</p><p>“Oh, you’re going to love this,” Lambert laughed, and launched into the story. Eskel stood there staring at him all the way through, and when he was done Eskel walked out of the kitchen to the living room and looked down the pair on the floor, hands on his hips. Deidre looked up at him and beamed, all mischief, and Aiden looked just as pleased. </p><p>“This is why you were so smug when I brought them up,” Eskel said, in mock disappointment. “You knew! Betrayed by my own child!” </p><p>“It was a secret,” Deidre laughed, and leaned into Aiden’s shoulder. “I got <em>four</em> uncles when I got adopted, not three, and you didn’t even know! I thought it was funny.” </p><p>“It is,” Eskel admitted with a sigh. “Come here, Aiden, let me hug my brother-in-law, fuck’s sake.” </p><p>Aiden scrambled to his feet, looking a little flustered, and Eskel swept him into a tight hug. Deidre jumped up to hug him from behind, beaming, and Aiden looked overwhelmed for a moment before burying his face in Eskel’s shoulder and sinking into it. Lambert leaned against a wall, grinning, and when Eskel finally let him go Aiden had a tiny, thrilled smile on his face. </p><p>They ate the stew before getting their coats and boots on, and Deidre led Aiden around the property showing him the different goats, sheds, and pastures with D’yaebl and Beann’shie flanking them. Eskel and Lambert trailed along behind them, and as Aiden was taking in one of Eskel’s massive, smelly rams, Eskel slung an arm around Lambert’s shoulders. </p><p>“She’s talking near triple what she used to, since then,” he said quietly, watching Aiden jump like a startled cat as one of the goats ran past. “Dunno if it’s just that she knows for good now they can’t get to her, or if it’s Aiden not being a threat, or what, but it makes me happy that she feels comfortable enough most days to talk. I wouldn’t have cared if she never spoke again, I mean, I love Geralt more than I could ever say and he doesn’t talk for months sometimes, but I’m glad she feels safe."</p><p>"She deserves it," Lambert agreed, lightly knocking their heads together. "You're a good parent." </p><p>"Shut up," Eskel mumbled, his face going red.</p><p>"Nope, can't make me." </p><p>As promised, the grocery shopping happened. Deidre was torn between wanting to spend more time with her uncles and the sheer misery that was being inside the store, so they reached a compromise of making it a very fast trip while she waited in Eskel’s truck. Eskel grew a decent amount of his own food and tended towards solid, simple meals, so it was a fast trip to gather everything and return to the check out. </p><p>Lambert’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to find it was Yennefer texting him about their day trip plans to Toussaint. Aiden, standing idly beside him, suddenly went rigid. He glanced up to follow his line of sight, and saw the small stand of little plush keychains. They were just simple, cheap little things, but a certain pink puffball and some other creatures that looked similar in style were hanging there. Aiden was staring at them with unabashed longing, practically vibrating in place as he stayed glued obediently to Lambert’s side. Ah. He looked back at his phone. </p><p>“Get one for Deidre and me too, we can all match,” he said absently, shooting off a text to Yennefer confirming the time, and Aiden made a little squirmy movement of delight before darting over to the stand. </p><p>“Ahhh,” Eskel said, sounding very knowing. “I see. You’re <em>married</em>, married.” </p><p>Lambert blinked, confused, and looked up at his brother. “Yeah? I told you that like an hour ago, keep up.” </p><p>Eskel grinned, giving him a long look before turning back to start stacking things on the belt. “Right, yeah, sorry.” </p><p>Aiden skidded back to a halt with one of the Catrine’s and presumably one of the friends, eyes big. He shoved them in Lambert’s face. “They’re so <em>cute</em>, look at them!” </p><p>“Very cute,” Lambert agreed, looking at Aiden’s blown wide pupils. </p><p>“Catrine’s for Deidre, and then we have these two, who are rivals from different worlds and fight an ogre together and become friends,” Aiden said enthusiastically and Lambert thought for a brief, thrilling moment, he may in fact need to just kiss him to handle how adorable he was when he got excited about things. Or violently squish him in a hug. Cute aggression, it was a real problem. “Look, they even have red and brown hair! We match!” </p><p>Lambert, to cope with the desperate urge to squeeze him, kissed his forehead. Aiden made a very happy squeaking noise.  </p><p>“Put them on the belt so we can check out,” he said fondly, and Aiden bounced over to do so. </p><p>He took off at a jog once they were out of the doors, Eskel and Lambert following more sedately. The windows were down in the truck, Deidre in the back with Beann’shie poking his massive head out next to Diedre’s when they saw them exit the building. Aiden triumphantly held the keychains up, and Deidre sat bolt upright, eyes going wide. Eskel and Lambert got the groceries into the back of the truck, Lambert stealing the brown haired keychain from Aiden as he and Deidre talked in rapid fire high pitched coos over the little things. He got a massive grin from Aiden for his trouble, and his cheeks felt a little warm as they all climbed in, Eskel driving and Lambert in the front passenger seat with Aiden squeezing back into the back with Deidre and massive Beann’shie. </p><p>The keychain <em>was</em> cute. </p><p>It was a nice day, and Lambert sat back as they turned onto the road to head home. The sun was out, the clouds having gone, and while they were almost certain to be getting the first big snowfall soon, things were relatively nice for now. The leaves had turned in the trees, painting the city a riot of red, gold, and orange, and the fields mowed down were stubbly gold to match. The mountains were painted in all the hues and colors imaginable, the dark purple of some of the already bare trees speckled through the landscape. </p><p>His phone buzzed slightly, and Lambert pulled it out to check who was texting him.</p><p>Text from: Husband<br/>
hi i love you</p><p>He went bright red, clearing his throat. Eskel gave him a look, and he waved him off. </p><p>Text from: Husband<br/>
thank you for giving me this<br/>
today has been really good<br/>
and im a little overwhelmed rn about how happy i feel<br/>
so you’re getting texts instead of me talking<br/>
so thank you<br/>
and i love you </p><p>Lambert reached back through the space between the door and the seat, and Aiden’s hand found his to squeeze, just for a moment, before letting go. He found himself smiling, and relaxed back in his seat. </p><p>Text to: Husband<br/>
gotta keep my man happy, don’t I? </p><p>They turned onto the road leading to Eskel’s house, and Eskel made a little noise of surprise. There was a girl by his mailbox with a bike, the kind usually used by the kids in the area for riding around the bumpy back roads or up along mountains. She was tall, maybe around Deidre’s age, lanky, with wild brown curls and well worn jeans and a messy looking t-shirt and light coat. </p><p>“Huh, what’s this?” Eskel mused, and rolled down the window. </p><p>The girl turned to look at them as they pulled up, and Lambert caught sight of flashing brown eyes, a smudged face, and a stubborn jaw. She was undoubtedly going to be a heartbreaker when she grew up, and she carried herself like someone a good foot taller and 5 years older. He liked her immediately.</p><p>“Oh, Renfri,” Eskel said, pulling to a stop. “What are you doing all the way out here?” </p><p>The girl held up a book, grinning up at him. “You left this at Geralt’s place, he asked me to bring it back and stick it in your mailbox if you were gone. I didn’t see your truck so I figured you were out.” She passed it up to him. </p><p>“Oh, thank you, that makes life easier for me,” Eskel said, checking the cover and setting it on the console. “Thank you, Renfri. Did you want to come up for some water or anything?” </p><p>“No, I should be getting… back…” </p><p>Renfri’s voice trailed off, and Lambert hid a grin behind his hand as he realized that Deidre had rolled down the window to get a better look at their guest. Judging by the way the two were looking at each other, both of them wide eyed, something had just shifted in the universe. Renfri looked like someone had just whacked her over the head, dazzled.</p><p>“Hi. Uh. I’m. I’m Renfri,” Renfri said, her cheeks dusting pink. </p><p>Deidre ducked her head a little, smiling shyly. “I… I’m Deidre.” </p><p>Renfri was staring, eyes bright and brilliant as she stared in open awe at Deidre. “That’s- That’s a nice name,” she stumbled out. Deidre smiled and Renfri looked absolutely poleaxed and thrilled all at once. </p><p>“Aw,” Aiden said softly. </p><p>Eskel cleared his throat, and Renfri’s head snapped back to him, going even brighter red. “We’ve got groceries to put away so I better get this all up to the house. You sure I can’t get you anything?” </p><p>Renfri glanced at Deidre, a small note of desperation in her face. “I, um. I do have to get home. But I was-” She visibly scrambled for a moment before blurting out, bright red, “I was wondering if you could show me how to make soap some time.” </p><p>There was a brief pause in which she looked like she was about to smack her face with her palm, and Lambert barely managed to hold down a laugh. Aiden, in the back, made a faint wheezing noise. Eskel’s mouth quivered as he tried to hold down his smile. “Sure. I’ll talk to Geralt, we’ll work something out.” </p><p>“Okay,” Renfri said weakly, still brilliant red, and Eskel started up the drive. Deidre waved as they went, turning to look back at her until she no longer could. </p><p>Renfri stared after them all the way up the drive, blatantly star struck. </p><p>“So she’s one of Geralt’s students?” Lambert said conversationally, for Deidre’s benefit. Eskel grinned. </p><p>“Yep. Renfri von Creyden, legally the third in line for the hereditary honor of being named Sovereign of Creyden, not that you’d know it from how her family treats her,” Eskel said, making a face. “Her father married into the line, and when her mother died he remarried to a woman from out here and he’s treated her like trash ever since. They’re not involved in the grandfather’s life, so most people don’t know she exists. Geralt’s been quiet about it, but I’m sure when she turns 14 she’ll file for removal.” </p><p>Deidre looked up at Eskel, frowning. “What’s that?” </p><p>Lambert craned his head to look back at her. “In Kaedwen, when you turn 14, you gain some rights over your autonomy. If you’ve got proof of abuse or neglect or whatever, you can fill out some paperwork and request the Region or country remove you from your parents care and place you either in a foster home, or with someone you trust, if they agree to it. The Region keeps lawyers specifically trained in representing youth on retainer for it. There’s not a lot of people who do it, but it’s not rare, either. I was thinking about it before I was given to Vesemir.” </p><p>Deidre blinked. “Given?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, smiling wryly. “Dear old dad tried to kill me, went out drinking, and promised Vesemir the first thing he saw when he came home for getting him home safe. I’m a Child Surprise.” </p><p>Deidre’s eyes widened. “Ohhhh, like me!” </p><p>Eskel winced, and Lambert’s head snapped to him. Eskel looked unbelievably guilty, and a pit of discomfort opened up in Lambert’s stomach.</p><p>“<em>Excuse me</em>.” </p><p>Eskel grimaced. “Technically, she is. I’m just… also her godfather.” </p><p>“Explain,” Lambert demanded, and Aiden made a curious noise. </p><p>Deidre piped up, “My dad told him anything he could get from the car he could keep after he got him out and the only thing he got out before it exploded was me! So I’m a Child Surprise too!” </p><p>Eskel’s hand drifted up to touch his scars. “I didn’t want to tell you since you’ve got such an issue with the Law of Surprise,” he explained. “Guess you had to find out eventually. And, um… since you might as well know, Ciri’s a Child Surprise too. Geralt’s been trying to figure out how to explain it for about a year now, so he won’t care if I tell you. He got stuck at this banquet, there was a whole mess, and Pavetta and Duny, that’s Ciri’s birth parents, they were both just dumb teenagers who’d gone and gotten pregnant and that was the surprise portion of the evening.” </p><p>“I’m going to kill him,” Lambert said mildly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Fuck’s sake.” </p><p>“Yeah, well.” </p><p>They got the groceries inside and Aiden plopped back down with Deidre in the living room for a short Catrine marathon (which, point of fact, did have lovely animation and looked very fun) and as Lambert got the banana’s hung on their hook Eskel said quietly, “Are you mad?” </p><p>Lambert sighed, bracing his arms on the counter. Eskel was watching him, dark eyes uncertain. </p><p>“No,” he decided, feeling very tired. “No. Just I don’t know what I am, but I’m not mad. I might be later. Right now I guess I’m just upset you felt I couldn’t handle it.” </p><p>Eskel’s big hand found his back, gently rubbing between his hunched shoulder blades. “You were ten, little man,” Eskel said, his voice a bass rumble. “Ten and torn up inside and ready to slice the world to shreds, and you would have thought me even more of a monster than you already did with my face all fucked.” </p><p>“Never thought you were a monster, Esk.” </p><p>“Mm, but I did.” Eskel sighed, rubbing at his scars again. “It’s in the past. What’s done is done.” </p><p>Lambert inhaled slow, exhaling just as slow, and finished the saying. “Sand never stays on a beach, and breath never stays in lungs.” </p><p>Eskel gently thumped him on the back. “Go get that book and we can show Deidre and Aiden the armor. Might as well get him thinking about what he might like, if he’s going to come on trips with us some day.” </p><p>“You don’t know he’s going to,” Lambert muttered, but Eskel just grinned. </p><p>“Yeah, I do,” he said wryly. “Get, little man. We can talk about Yule gifts of very expensive clothes for your husband later.” </p><p>Aiden was thrilled by the schematics book. They all piled on the couch to look at it, Lambert turning the pages with Deidre and Aiden pressed to his sides and Eskel sitting on Deidre’s other side with one of his massive arms over her shoulder. Deidre was enthralled by the Bear’s long coats, and Aiden, as predicted, was immediately taken with the Cat gear. </p><p>“It looks so comfortable,” he insisted, peering down at the pictures. The schematics book had endless amounts of information about leather thicknesses, fabric types, and patterns as well, and Aiden kept turning the pages back to look at the Tier Two gear and coo over the color choices that had been found on the extant garments. Eskel was able to give him even more information about how things were dyed at the time, and Aiden and Deidre soaked it all up with rabid interest.</p><p>Eventually they all wound up on the floor, Aiden with the book and Deidre making comments as the two of them looked through everything in fascination and Eskel went off to do something. Lambert started nodding off in very little time, and was only going to close his eyes for a minute...</p><p>“It’s kind of funny,” Aiden was saying as he slowly surfaced again. “He just goes and goes and goes and the second he gets tricked into laying down he’s out like a light.” </p><p>Deidre giggled, and Lambert sighed as Aiden’s fingers scratched through his hair, nails gentle on his scalp. At some point his head must have found Aiden’s lap, which was really the opposite of a problem. Lambert relaxed into it, unwilling to open his eyes. He could hear Eskel’s off key singing in the distance, the TV’s low hum of some show playing, and he was warm and comfortable, D’yaebl’s bulk pressed up against his legs and Aiden and Deidre close. The sandalwood smell that was becoming <em>home</em> was thick- Aiden had likely put it on his wrists. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, and Lambert was almost back asleep when Deidre spoke up. </p><p>“Aiden?” </p><p>“Mm?” </p><p>There was a long pause, and then Deidre said, very quietly, “Lambert’s nice to you, right?”</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart,” Aiden said, soft. “Yes, he’s very gentle with me. He’s careful. I don’t think he even notices how careful he is with me, but he checks all the time to make sure I’m alright and he’s not pushing me too much. He never asks for anything more than I can give.” </p><p>Lambert could feel her shift closer, and kept his eyes shut.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking about that, kinda. What if… what if I don’t ever want someone because of what they did?” she said, sounding worried. “I mean, I used to get crushes on boys, but I don’t think I ever want that again, and I don’t know about girls. Eskel said maybe in a year, if I’m feeling up to it, I can go back to school with other people but… people start <em>dating</em> and what if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want a real relationship?” </p><p>Aiden made a soft noise. “I don’t think there’s any reason for that to be a bad thing. Your papa doesn’t like romance. Lambert doesn’t fall in love with people until after he knows them really well, or at least doesn’t want sex with them until then. Did you know, all through high school I didn’t date at all? I didn’t want anyone or anything. I didn’t date until college and even then I didn’t do much of it, I mostly just did like Eskel. I didn’t think I could love people at all for a long time, but I did fall in love a couple of times. And I love Lambert.” </p><p>“Does he know that?” </p><p>“Oh yes, little one, he knows. I’m no good at hiding from what I want, and I understand he might not ever want me back, even if he loves me in his own way.” Aiden gently scratched at his scalp, and Lambert sighed, settling against him. “Deidre, even if it is trauma keeping you from wanting to be with people romantically, and even if that never goes away, that’s not a bad thing. You can still have a full and very happy life without it. You can have friends, and family, and children, and even a partner without sex or love being part of the equation. And I will fight anyone who thinks that you’re wrong.” </p><p>Lambert stirred, opening his eyes. </p><p>“Mmm,” he said, vaguely agreeing. “Deidre, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. ‘Kay?” </p><p>Deidre smiled, though it was a little wobbly, and scooted over to lay down and curl up against him. Lambert threw an arm over her, rubbing her back, and closed his eyes again. Beaan’shie found Deidre’s other side, flopping down with a huff of air, and Lambert settled again as Aiden started to hum.</p><p>Eventually Aiden fell asleep too, falling over to pillow his head on Lambert’s ribs and arm, and the three of them only woke back up when Eskel came to get Deidre into bed. He hugged them both tight on the way out the door, kissing Lambert’s temple in a decidedly fond way, and as they drove out into the cold blue-dark of the night Lambert felt oddly balanced and yet unbalanced. Aiden let him be, leaning against the car door and watching the stars beyond dotting the sky far beyond their little ball of rock. </p><p>When they arrived home, Lambert parked the car and stayed sitting, letting it idle. Aiden unbuckled his seat belt and paused, sitting back to look at him. Lambert let the car run, the soft thumping engine still going until Aiden reached over and turned the key off. The silence was sudden and abrupt, but it was a reassuring kind of silence. The world outside was dark and cold, but inside the car it was still warm, safe, smelling slightly of sandalwood scented cologne. </p><p>“Do you,” Lambert started, and stopped. Aiden waited. He ran a hand over his face, looking out into the night. “<em>Do</em> you want a real relationship?” </p><p>“Ah,” Aiden said, soft and knowing. “Do you think this isn’t one?” </p><p>“We aren’t fucking,” Lambert said bluntly. “We don’t- we-” </p><p>“We aren’t fucking but you leave me open to be satisfied sexually and don’t restrict my choices,” Aiden said gently. “We wear rings, almost daily. People know that we’re in some way bound. We live together, eat together, spend time together, even sleep in the same bed most nights. Your family count me as part of them. What does it matter, if you never want to touch me like that? You’re in no way lacking as a husband, Lambert, but if that’s all you ever want, just the title of husband and not the explicit agreement of a relationship in a clear, committed sense, I’d still be happy with that. We have a partnership, and a relationship of sorts. And if you ever want it, my door is open to formalize that. You know that I love you. I don’t care if it’s romantic or not, I don’t care if it’s sexual or not, I love you and I want you to feel as safe and as happy as you’ve made me.” </p><p>Lambert looked at the steering wheel. “I don’t know what to do with this.” </p><p>“You don’t have to.” </p><p>Aiden leaned over to press a lingering kiss to his cheek, effortlessly gentle. Lambert closed his eyes against it, the wave of desperate <em>something</em> battering at his heart. </p><p>“I’ll be waiting until you do,” Aiden said, and climbed out of the car. </p><p>Lambert sat in the soft, lingering scent of sandalwood and spice, and thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lambert makes a friend, Cirilla is a minor god, and Aiden takes a turn at husbandly gift giving.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: consumption of alcohol, specifically absinthe and champagne, in low amounts.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lambert had never been particularly warm and cuddly, but he did have a few people in his life who made recurring appearances. One such person was Coën. Coën was a nice guy who Lambert had generic good feelings about, which was why when they met up in the lab that Monday Lambert said, "So I accidentally got married to a theater major a few months ago and kind of forgot to mention it to you." </p>
<p>Coën blinked, considered this thoughtfully, and said, "If you were anyone else, I would think that was a joke. But it's you, so congratulations."</p>
<p>This was why everyone liked Coën. He was completely unflappable. </p>
<p>"Thanks, his name is Aiden and he's the best mistake I've ever made." Lambert paused, frowning. "This has been bugging me. Are we friends?"</p>
<p>Coën sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Lambert," he said, with deep patience, "I have been deliberately picking you for partnered work since sophomore year. You are listed as one of my emergency contacts with the school ever since there was that chemical spill and you decided my aunt wasn't stern enough with the doctors that you personally drove me to. We have specifically planned to take classes together. You have a standing invitation to my family's religious celebrations. We go out for dinner once a month. You remember my birthday better than my aunts do. Yes, we're friends." </p>
<p>"Oh. Great." Lambert nodded, feeling a little awkward and also thrilled. “Um. After the show they’re putting on is done, Aiden wants to host a party for the cast and crew at our place. Would you want to come?” </p>
<p>Coën smiled at him, crooked and charming. “Just tell me the time and place and I’ll be there.” </p>
<p>“Great. Um.” Lambert fussed with his papers. “Sorry. About having to ask.” </p>
<p>Coën braced his elbows on the table, grinning. “Lamb, the first time you met me and I asked for your number you were so offended thinking I was asking you out instead of focusing on such important things as introductory biology that I decided, no matter what, I was hanging around you until you gave in because you were just so fucking funny. Just because you didn’t get the picture doesn’t mean we’re not friends. It’s nice to hear it though.” </p>
<p>Lambert was fully aware his face was red. “Oh. Cool.” </p>
<p>Coën snorted, absently shoving at his head. “Get the damn papers in order, Wilkson, I want to go make out with my girl before she forgets who I am.”</p>
<p>"Shani loves your mom's cooking too much to forget you."</p>
<p>"Yeah, well, my aunties are still asking if "that nice Wilkson boy with the good potato salad recipe" is coming back to ask for my hand, so I'm not out of the woods yet."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>life update: I do not understand people.<p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
as the kids say, we been knew<br/>
what happened this time </p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
so it turns out that if you’ve been someones emergency contact for two years<br/>
that means you’re friends.<br/>
which was news to me<br/>
I thought that was just something people did</p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
. . .<br/>
Lambert. Are you telling me you just now figured out<br/>
that coen<br/>
is your friend<br/>
coen who you drove to the hospital and yelled at doctors for<br/>
coen who has COME TO YULE THE PAST TWO YEARS</p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
WELL YEAH HE NEVER SAID ANYTHING<br/>
besides his family doesn’t do yule and he thinks its fun and he always gets so hype about presents<br/>
oh<br/>
oh shit oh fuck<br/>
how did i not notice</p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
oh my fucking gods<br/>
where did we fail you kiddo<br/>
I cannot believe this</p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
go fuck a goat, Eskel </p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
rude words will not make up for the fact<br/>
that your dumb ass thought that your best friend<br/>
was just like<br/>
what<br/>
humoring you??? for help on papers??<br/>
Lambert.<br/>
Lambert.<br/>
Please tell me you did not think this</p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
LOOK HE WAS AWFUL AT CHEMISTRY WHEN WE MET</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Husband<br/>I made a friend.<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
oh good!!! </p>
<p>Text to: Husband<br/>
Like 2 years ago apparently.<br/>
i uh. did not notice.<br/>
until now. </p>
<p>Text from: Husband<br/>
omg<br/>
babe i love you just SO MUCH<br/>
i’m buying ice cream on the way home tell me EVERYTHING when i get back.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>It was a week before the debut of <em>The Ballad of the Siren</em> that Lambert found out about the gala, and because it was Aiden, he found out in the most over the top way possible.<p>He got home late and not in a particularly great mood since the lab had been something of a failure and there had been miserable amounts of traffic thanks to a cricket game. He kicked the door shut, tossing his bag onto the couch, and was in the process of fighting with his bootlaces when he realized the house smelled like incredibly spicy Sodden-style curry. Aiden poked his head out from around the edge of the kitchen and smiled at him. </p>
<p>“Hi! Welcome home.” </p>
<p>The stress instantly vanished. “Did you get me curry?” </p>
<p>“I <em>did</em>,” Aiden said, smiling at him with fond indulgence. “And cake, and that Toussainti absinthe you like so much.” </p>
<p>Lambert eyed him, a little suspicious. “What are you up to?” </p>
<p>“Spoiling you,” Aiden sing-songed, and ducked back out of sight. Lambert finally got his boots off and went to the kitchen, where Aiden had laid out a lot of food along with glasses, water dripper, and spoons for the absinthe. A glance at the bottle told him that it was, indeed, the very nice and heady absinthe that he liked. Lambert sank into a chair. There were also wine glasses filled with milk and water to go with the curry, and he snorted when he saw all the silverware neatly arranged. It was thoroughly decadent. </p>
<p>“I’m afraid to ask what the occasion is,” he said, and once Aiden had sat he dug in with a groan of delight. The curry was hot enough to make his eyes water, and he relished every second of it. Aiden had picked a much milder version for himself. By the time they were done and Lambert was well into his absinthe following some very fun times with a lighter and some sugar he was feeling very happy with the world at large and specifically that part of it that contained one Aiden Kett. Aiden was watching the water spout of the dripper wear down the sugar cube instead, eyes as luminescent as the absinthe.</p>
<p>He really should get his name hyphenated. </p>
<p>That would be nice.</p>
<p>Aiden set aside the dripper once it was done, and stirred up his glass to drink some. The city outside the windows was lit up and sparkling, and Lambert sighed in quiet contentment. He was just tipsy enough to be comfortable and soothed out of the stress of the day. The absinthe was smooth in his mouth, the city was spread out before him, and he'd just had an excellent dinner. Life was pretty damn good at the moment.</p>
<p>“I,” Aiden said after a few sips, “have a gift for you. And you can tell me to take it back if you want, but I think you’re going to like it.” </p>
<p>“Mmm.” Lambert looked back to him, feeling very soft. He knew he had a bit of a smile on, his mouth curving softly. “What’ve you gone and got for me, husband-mine?” </p>
<p>Aiden swallowed hard, pupils dilating. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re dangerous when you’re like this,” he said after a beat. “All relaxed and soft and smiley at me? Oof. Stay put, let me go get it.” </p>
<p>Lambert relaxed back in his chair, sipping at the absinthe and looking out at the world at large. The snows would start coming soon, autumn drawing to a close and welcoming winter’s icy breath. He would probably get called out to the Preserve at some point soon to walk fence lines and check up on the castle before the Trail closed, or Geralt might be called. They’d walked the Trail so many times now, they knew the Killer by heart. Vesemir hadn’t let him run it alone until he was 17 and on the edge of his licensing. It would be nice to spend some time in the Preserve. He liked it in the autumn. </p>
<p>Aiden cleared his throat, and Lambert turned to find him holding a massive, mostly flat white box with a bow tied around it across his arms.</p>
<p>“Surprise,” Aiden said, sounding a little nervous. </p>
<p>Lambert set his cup down and stood, immediately curious. Aiden held it steady for him as he untied the bow and unwound it. The ribbon holding the box closed was silk, inky black, and it slithered through his hand to fall to the floor on accident. He ignored it, and pulled off the lid. </p>
<p>There, nested in black tissue paper, was a dress. He knew immediately it was a formal gown, rich emerald and luxe satin, and his mouth went dry as he carefully lifted it from the box. The satin unfolded in gloss waves of green, and he stared at it in shock. It was largely simple. Two straps, very neat, a largely flat bodice with echoes of a medieval style in the small v cut into the center for a small detail. The shape of it almost seemed like armor. There was a belt to mark the waist, and from it cascaded thick gathers of yet more green satin to emphasize the hips when worn, and there was a bit of a train in the back. The front of the skirts was cut like a tulip, meaning his left leg would be exposed up to the thigh, and when he looked back in the box he found a pair of low, glossy black dance heels like the kind Aiden had for choreography work. He looked at Aiden, eyes wide. </p>
<p>“I took the measurements off of your black gown,” Aiden said, strained and nervous. “Green, to offset your hair, you look so good in green. There’s… there’s a gala, after the opening night, very fancy, and there’s going to be a lot of people talking about boring things and I. I want you to come, because everything seems to be better with you, and there’s going to be dancing, and. And I thought this might-” </p>
<p>He broke off, biting his lip. </p>
<p>With great care, Lambert took the dress and reverently laid it out on the chaise, and then walked back to collect the shoes and put them with it. Then he took the box from Aiden’s arms, set that down, and with shaking hands very carefully cupped Aiden’s face in his palms. Aiden’s eyes went very wide. </p>
<p>“You’re crying,” he said blankly, and Lambert nodded, because at some point the tears had welled up and were starting to splash down his face. “Oh, oh no, I’m sorry-” </p>
<p>“I may swoon,” Lambert rasped. He knew he was shaking, so overwhelmed by the very idea, and Aiden’s arms flew up to hold him tight in a hug. Lambert let go and slung his arms around Aiden’s neck to hold him back, his heart butterfly fast. “I love it, I love it so fucking much, I don’t want to even imagine how much this must have cost-” </p>
<p>“If it makes you happy then it’s worth every copper bit,” Aiden said fiercely, hand coming up to gently cradle the back of his head. “And I got a <em>very</em> good deal on the shoes.” </p>
<p>When Lambert had finally stopped shaking, he pulled back and wiped at his eyes. “Can I try it on?”</p>
<p>“<em>Please</em>,” Aiden said fervently, and Lambert grinned, filled with a sudden, bubbling delight as he grabbed the dress and shoes. </p>
<p>“Go get your suit,” he said, and Aiden’s pupils blew wide. </p>
<p>It was a perfect fit. </p>
<p>He stared in the mirror, overcome with the sudden euphoric glee of it all as he swished the skirts back and forth (and pockets!! There were pockets hidden in the folds!) and looked at himself. The green really was great against his skin and hair, and he went back out to the meager collection of jewelry he had to see if he had anything that would work. </p>
<p>He had, he discovered, a simple metal torc with dragon head ends, sterling silver to match his ring. It had been a gift from Yennefer years ago, and he slid it on. It sat nicely against his collarbones, and the heels were so low and well centered he could move easily. Grinning, he spun, catching the glint of light on his wedding ring and going to put on a dark burgundy lipstick so dark it was near black before he pushed the door back open and stepped out into the main room. </p>
<p>Aiden was waiting on the opposite end of the room, looking out at the city near the chaise, his tall dancing boots with the three inch heels on. He turned as he heard Lambert step out, and Lambert stopped dead. </p>
<p>Oh, he thought, with a small amount of panic. Huh. Okay. His estimate of four months might have been off, because Aiden, backlit by the city and bathed in the golden glow of the single light from the kitchen, was beautiful. He looked absolutely perfect in the silvery-gray of the suit, curls soft, eyes dark, like everything Lambert had ever wanted come to life. When had that happened? Was it now? Days ago? When? </p>
<p>“Oh,” Aiden said, more breath than anything. “Oh, I knew you’d be glorious, but this…” </p>
<p>Lambert slowly stepped forward, heart in his throat, and Aiden crossed the room in time with him. Lambert’s skirts swayed in time with his steps, the train whispering soft against the wooden floors. They met in the middle, and Lambert swallowed hard. The shadows cut Aiden’s cheekbones into high relief, and they were closer to the same height right now. Aiden’s dark eyes were near completely black with pupil, and he was fairly sure his were the same. </p>
<p>“I don’t know how to dance with the train,” he said, his voice hoarse. </p>
<p>Aiden bent and lifted it for him, showing him the hidden loop that he hooked onto his wrist to keep his hands free. The skirts draped beautifully, and Aiden grabbed his phone, pulling something up before setting it aside. A soft and folksy piano and violin piece started, and Aiden stepped forward, hand sliding around to low on his waist. Lambert’s breath caught, and Aiden pulled him forward at his waist, hand coming up to find Aiden’s in breathless instinct. </p>
<p>“Forgive me,” he said, voice rasping in a way Lambert hadn’t heard from him before. “I forgot to bow.” </p>
<p>Lambert, still caught on the way he was just pulled, found the hand with the wrist loop resting on Aiden’s shoulder, his back falling into the well trained arch. They’d spent so many evenings like this now, it was second nature. </p>
<p>“Somehow,” he choked out as Aiden’s leg settled between his and the began the first steps of the light, fast Spallanese Waltz Aiden had first taught him, “I think you’ll make it up to me.” </p>
<p>The music welled up and spiralled out into something ever more bold and brilliant, the piano and violin sweet and rich all at once, and the gold light of the kitchen spilled out. They danced light and easy. Lambert let himself be spun here and there, twirling out in a rush of skirts that rustled soft and beautiful until the music started to slow. Aiden spun him back into his arms, and as the pace slowed to the last lingering notes, an eternity all too short, dipped him low and pulled him back up, the pair of them resting chest to chest as the last of the piano solo filtered out into silence. </p>
<p>For a moment all the sound in the house was the soft whisper of breath, and then, Lambert threw caution to the wind. </p>
<p>“Can I-” he started, and Aiden nodded, frantic, and that was it. </p>
<p>Lambert’s hand found the back of his neck and Aiden gasped against his mouth as his hand, resting so carefully in polite territory, found the curve of his waist and pulled him in tight once more. It was filthy and desperate and relieved, and Aiden backed them up to the couch, falling backwards onto it when his knees hit. Lambert rucked up his skirts, straddling him and grabbing his face once again, chest heaving with the sudden, shocking realization that maybe, perhaps, he’d been wanting longer than he knew. Aiden was beautiful under him, hair askew and mouth swollen, smeared with Lambert’s dark lipstick, and his hands lingered at the cinched in belt of Lambert’s waist, broad thumbs running soothing strokes over the bodice. </p>
<p>“You can’t be in my bed tonight,” Lambert managed, somewhere between kisses, because he still had enough of a mind for that. “I’m not-” </p>
<p>“I know,” Aiden said, voice ragged, and Lambert shuddered as he pressed kisses up the column of his neck. “I know. Fuck, you’re glorious, I love you so much even when you’re an asshole, you’re <em>beautiful</em>-” </p>
<p>Lambert whined, and gently pulled his head away, breathing heavy. Aiden’s thighs were warm and solid under his, dancer strong, and for just a moment he wanted to really throw caution away and let this go where it would. But he was emotional and startled and very fucking wooed, and he knew he’d be sick in the morning if he did this now. </p>
<p>“No further than this, tonight,” he said, a little breathless. </p>
<p>Aiden took a deep, shaking breath, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” </p>
<p>It took all of his strength to stand up, helped by Aiden’s strong hands on his waist to keep him steady. Lambert looked down at his husband, still breathing a little heavy. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said again, and before he could change his mind turned on his heels and fled to the bedroom. He locked the door behind him.  </p>
<p>He hung the green dress with care, placing the shoes underneath it, and changed into comfortable boxers and climbed into bed once his makeup was off. Lambert stared blankly at the empty second half of the bed, his traitor mind whispering reassurances that really, it would be fine, they could just share. They couldn’t. Not right now. Maybe tomorrow, but not right now. He rolled over and grabbed his phone, and after a moment’s hesitation called a number he hadn’t actually rang for two years.</p>
<p>Texts for birthdays, cute dogs, and holidays didn’t count.</p>
<p>Keira picked up on the second ring, because she was prompt like that. “If you’re calling me this late at night, I’m a bit worried,” she said, no hello. </p>
<p>Lambert sighed, rolling onto his back. “Hi, Keira.” </p>
<p>“Hi, Lambert.” He could hear her moving around, shifting a little. She was probably safe and comfortable at Aretuza, tucked away in her little miserable hideyhole of an office or her bedroom. She had sent pictures when she first got there, and Lambert had wanted very badly to go and help her redecorate. It hadn’t been pretty, and Keira had weird taste. “What’s wrong? It’s midnight here, this isn’t exactly the time for a casual chat. What’s going on, talk to me.” </p>
<p>Lambert laughed, a half broken noise, and ran a hand over his face. “Um, well, where to fucking start… I accidentally got married about two months ago, and I just kissed him tonight for the first time since our wedding, and… fuck, Keira, I think I’m going to love him if I don’t already, but he’s so different from you I don’t know what to look for. I don’t- Gods, I wish you were here.” </p>
<p>“Oh, Lambert.” Keira sighed, but it was fond. “Only you, you disaster. Tell me everything, I’ve missed your voice.” </p>
<p>So he did. He told her the whole story, every bit of it, and when he was done choking out what had happened that evening between the absinthe and the dress and the dancing and the kissing, Keira whistled. </p>
<p>“Damn,” she said at last. “Even for you, that’s a lot of nonsense in two months. Well, if you ever do a vow renewal you’d well better invite me.” </p>
<p>“That was a given. I have two friends, and you’re one of them.” </p>
<p>“I can’t believe you never caught on to Coen, Lamb.” </p>
<p>“Fuck off.” He smiled as he said it. He felt lighter for talking to Keira, he always did. She was young for a sorceress, the same age as him in fact, but she had been snatched up by Aretuza fast and carried off to teach three years back. They’d had a knock down, drag out fight about it, but she went anyway, because caging something was never a good way to love it. They’d met when Lambert was barely 18, her just out of Aretuza herself and blasting through an accelerated college course. He’d stolen her parking space and she’d set his hair on fire. It had been a fun first meeting. Things had just sort of rolled from there, until suddenly he loved her and wanted her, and she conveniently felt the same. Right up until she didn’t. </p>
<p>“You’re… you’re still important to me,” Lambert said quietly, smiling softening. “Really important. I know I’ll always love you, even if it’s not the right kind of way for us to fit together, I just… I don’t know how to handle this, Kiera. I really don’t.” </p>
<p>“Then wait,” she said simply. “He seems like a nice guy, he can handle some blue balls. And if he can’t, well, I’ve got a sharp knife and medical training, it’s not that hard to cut ‘em off.” </p>
<p>Lambert laughed, the last bit of tension easing. “Ouch. No, it’ll be fine. Thanks, Keira.” He hesitated, and then said, “Tell me about Aretuza until I fall asleep?” </p>
<p>“I can do that, Lamb.” </p>
<p>He woke up in the morning to find they’d talked for two hours straight. He levered himself out of bed, finding sweatpants and a shirt, and made his way to the kitchen. Aiden was already up, cleaning up the mess they’d left from last night, and he froze as Lambert walked in. </p>
<p>They looked at each other for a long moment. Slowly, Lambert walked forward, and Aiden sucked in a breath as he crowded him back against the counter and slid a crooked finger under Aiden’s chin, tilting his head up as he bent a little to kiss him. Aiden made a soft, choked noise, hand finding Lambert’s hip, and when Lambert pulled back he looked thoroughly flustered. </p>
<p>“For now, this is it,” Lambert said, and Aiden nodded, swallowing hard and taking a steadying breath. </p>
<p>“Do I need to stop sharing your bed?” </p>
<p>Lambert hummed. “I guess we’ll find out. You might want to go get laid first, get the worst of that need out.” </p>
<p>Aiden huffed, mouth curving into a smile. “My husband, ever practical.” </p>
<p>“I am who I am, and who I am wants to get plenty of sleep, which is easier with you next to me and not horny,” Lambert said crisply, and kissed his forehead before backing up. “I’ll make pancakes.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>do you ever get upset about Jaskier fucking other people<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
no</p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
seriously like<br/>
never? </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
i also fvck othr ppl<br/>
&amp; he tels me about them<br/>
so i know hes sfe </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
so it’s not weird to not be jealous </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
ya </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
well that makes things simpler </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
need 2 tel me sumthin?? </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
Yeah, your texting needs a lot of work<br/>
I swear you do this on purpose. </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl<br/>
(: </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>
Bastard.<br/>
And I’ll tell you later, I’ve got a class to get to.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>Opening day for <em>The Ballad of the Siren</em> came far too soon, and Lambert brought his gown and gear in a shoe box and dress bag to the university rather than try to get back home, change, and return to campus in time. Aiden was practically vibrating in place, already hyped up on a truly terrifying amount of caffeine, and as soon as they were parked he bolted towards the theater for the start of the final rehearsals. They still had yet to share a bed again, and it was wearing on both of their energy levels. Lambert, much more sedate, made his way to Jaskier’s office to drop off his clothes.<p>Jaskier’s office was functionally a repurposed broom cupboard on the third floor of the music building, just big enough for his desk, a loveseat, several file cabinets, and a massive amount of sheet music and paperwork. There was also, Lambert noticed as he walked in, a little round table against the wall near the door, about hip height, overflowing with trinkets. And above it- </p>
<p>“Is that Cirilla as an eldritch abomination,” he said blankly, staring at the frankly fantastic art of a tiny, angelic face imposed on some sort of massive, heaving monster hung above the table. </p>
<p>Jaskier, who was frantically typing on his desktop, nodded vaguely. “Yes, I had to take the pictures down,” he said absently. “That one is done in very nice pastels.” </p>
<p>“Explain?” Lambert said, baffled, and hung his dress bag on the coat hook at the back of the door. </p>
<p>Jaskier looked up, blinked a few times, and then visibly brought his mind back to the present. “OH, shit, don’t tell Geralt about this.” </p>
<p>“I don’t even know what this <em>is</em>,” Lambert said, gesturing at it. </p>
<p>“It’s a shrine,” Jaskier said, like this was the most normal thing in the world, and after a long moment of Lambert staring at him, elaborated. “It’s not unusual for arts students to be, ah… superstitious. It started as a joke, I had some pictures of Cirilla pinned up and the students love it when they get little Cirilla marks back on their grading. Sometimes I’ll give her a crayon and let her go to town on the last page, it’s adorable. Anyway. Someone made a joke about Cirilla being the reason I got my grading done on time, and one of the kids left a rock as an offering to “Lady Cirilla of Time and Space” and jokingly offered a prayer to get their work in on time too. And… then it kind of spiraled.” </p>
<p>Lambert’s jaw dropped, and he looked back at the shrine. There was a bowl full of small papers with little prayers on them in the middle of the table. “You let your daughter turn into a minor god?” </p>
<p>“Not intentionally!” Jaskier wailed. “I took the pictures down just in case Melitele would be mad, and I hired someone to make the eldritch Ciri instead.” </p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Lambert said, amazed. “And I thought the sciences were weird. We just give stuffed animals to machines, we don’t create minor gods.” </p>
<p>He fished out a piece of paper and tore off a narrow strip, tossing it in the bowl before sketching the Eye Against Evil on his chest. Jaskier buried his face in his hands. </p>
<p>“You’re not really going to-” </p>
<p>“Oh glorious Cirilla, Lady of Time and Space, goddess of unfinished homework and desperate musicians, help your idiot father acquire a few more brain cells of sense. So let it be written, so let it be heard,” Lambert intoned, and pressed his palms to his thighs before bowing Sodden style to the Eldritch Cirilla. Jaskier groaned. </p>
<p>“Get out of my office, I’ll see you at the performance,” Jaskier groused, and Lambert cackled all the way out the door. </p>
<p>He saw Jaskier a bit before that, actually, on his way to get changed after a quick dinner following the last of his classes. Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri were all with him, apparently enjoying a bit of time in the sun, and he went to join them and found out that they were waiting for Vesemir to show up and collect his grandchild for the evening. Yennefer was already in her gown, stunning black as always, and Geralt was in his usual black on black on black suit with his hair left to flow loose. He was also wearing his medallion, which made Lambert raise an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“Jaskier's request,” Geralt muttered as Jaskier cooed at Cirilla and spun her around to make her shriek with glee. “Something about good luck, I didn’t ask.” </p>
<p>“Fair enough,” Lambert said. </p>
<p>One of Jaskier’s students spotted them and jogged over, violin case on her back jiggling. “Oh, Jaskier, hi! I had a question for you!” Jaskier set Ciri down, letting her cling to his leg, and the girl came to a polite halt and waved at Geralt and Yennefer. “Mr. and Mrs. Jaskier, nice to see you, the pictures he has really don’t do you justice you really are stunning, hail Lady Cirilla, we pray honor and glory on your works, may all you do flourish and your might reign forever and ever amen, I just had a question about the homework for this next week, I’m not sure I understand the diminished chords worksheet you have for us and also-” </p>
<p>“Mr. and Mrs. Jaskier?” Geralt said as she rambled, sounding thoughtful.</p>
<p>Jaskier, face only in sight of Lambert, blanched. </p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely not, he’d be insufferable,” Yennefer said, “What was that she said about- Ciri, no leave the squirrel alone!” </p>
<p>She and Geralt were sufficiently distracted chasing Ciri away from the very fat squirrel that her tiny eyes had fixated on to Jaskier’s clear relief, and chased her until Ciri ran over and held up her fat little arms for Lambert to pick her up. </p>
<p>He melted and did immediately, and was rewarded with a shriek and insistent, “Lam, Lam, Lam!” </p>
<p>“That’s <em>right</em>, very smart,” he chuckled, kissing her forehead, and Ciri squirmed happily. “Oh, you’re getting big little one, you’re going to be near as tall as your pa, I’d bet.” </p>
<p>Yennefer groaned, coming to a stop. “Just what this family needs, more ridiculously tall people.” </p>
<p>Vesemir thankfully took this time to show up, and with Ciri deposited in her grandfather’s care for an evening of extreme spoiling, Lambert finally went to go get ready. </p>
<p>He’d shaved for the first time in ages for this, cursing out his leg hair and trimming up the back of his neck and underarms, for the sake of clean lines (and also because there was something gleefully fun about rubbing freshly shaved legs together, that was delightful). He did his makeup in the regular bathroom along with about fifteen other students who crowded around mirrors, a mix of men, women, and people like him who didn’t fit one way or the other all fussing over each other. One of them recognized him from the marriage shoot and helped him with a truly fantastic and just the right levels of extreme smokey eye. Lambert put back on the ultra dark burgundy lip color to a riot of cooed appreciation, which definitely didn’t hurt his feelings any. When he got back to Jaskier’s office to change he put on the silver torc and the skull earrings, because he knew who he was as a person, and then pulled on the dress and shoes. The spotty and ancient mirror hanging in the hallway showed him exactly as he wanted to be, and Lambert beamed at himself in it before stalking down the hall. The skirt billowed as he went, train flaring. </p>
<p>The look on Geralt’s face when he found them in the lobby was priceless. Jaskier’s jaw dropped, and Yennefer’s eyebrows went up. </p>
<p>“Look at you,” Geralt said, eyes wide. “Perfect.” </p>
<p>Lambert preened, beaming, and Geralt blinked very fast before walking over to carefully hug him. </p>
<p>“You suit you,” he said into Lambert’s ear, and Lambert gently knocked their heads together. “It’s good to see you looking like yourself.” </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Lambert said quietly, and Geralt pulled back to let Jaskier bound up. </p>
<p>“Where did this come from?” Jaskier demanded, hands fluttering like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare. “It’s <em>beautiful</em>, Yenn, look at this-” </p>
<p>“I have eyes, Jaskier.” </p>
<p>“-You look phenomenal!” </p>
<p>A hand, wonderfully familiar and reassuring, pressed lightly at the center of his back as Aiden stepped up next to him. He was dressed in his gray suit and heels, making them nearly the same height, and Lambert smiled prettily at him. </p>
<p>“Phenomenal indeed,” Aiden said, voice a little lower in the register than usual. “Rosha said she saw you and sent me to sit with you. Since I was just assisting, I get to relax for exactly one night, and I’m picking tonight.” </p>
<p>“Mmm, good choice,” Lambert said, mock thoughtful, and Aiden gave him a very slow once over that had a frisson of heat swooping down Lambert’s spine before turning his attention to his still-unaware-they-were-in-laws. </p>
<p>“Apologies, I was swept away,” Aiden said with an easy smile. “It’s lovely to see you all again.” </p>
<p>“It’s great to see you,” Jaskier beamed, dragging him into a hug, and then it was off to go and get seated. The theater was packed to the brim, everyone dressed very nicely, and they were in the lower level with an excellent view of the stage. Jaskier entered first, followed by Geralt, Yennefer, Aiden, and then Lambert, who insisted on the end seat for dress purposes and also stress purposes if he was being honest. </p>
<p>Aiden’s hand found his thigh through the slit, and Lambert shot him an unimpressed look. Aiden looked at him in all innocence, and Lambert murmured, “Behave. Any higher, my buck, and you’ll be regretting it.” </p>
<p>“Darling,” Aiden purred, keeping his voice low, “you make it very hard to behave.” </p>
<p>Lambert snorted, and the lights went down as the strings began to tune in the pit. </p>
<p>It was a goddamn masterpiece of a performance. Lambert had a limited understanding of ballet that he’d mostly accumulated through Aiden, and even less of an understanding of modern dance, but between the singing operatic soloists who told the story of the destruction of the last pirate fleet of Kerack and the sirens who caused their downfall. Aiden was somewhat tense next to him, eyes constantly flicking to look at feet and at times craning forward with a nervous face, but there were no injuries, prop mishaps, or scene change issues, and when it was done the room erupted into thunderous applause that turned into a standing ovation. </p>
<p>“Good job,” Lambert said to Aiden, who beamed at him. </p>
<p>And then, finally, it was the gala. </p>
<p>They were in an actual ballroom, which was a somewhat thrilling surprise, and it was bedecked with lights and columns and carefully positioned drapes. It was invitation only, and Lambert felt a small, private thrill when he walked in on Aiden’s arm and caught a few very admiring looks shot their way. Granted, it was nothing like the looks that Geralt and Yennefer got, inky black and flanking Jaskier, who was very unsubtly wearing the colors of the gold, blue, and red Keracki flag, his mother’s home country. </p>
<p>“Do you ever think how weird it is, the cycle of countries?” Aiden mused as they snagged glasses of very nice champagne and Lambert stared longingly at the little shrimp hors d'oeuvres with the full intention of eating 20. “Kerack was wiped out years ago, but now it’s back as a formal city state.” </p>
<p>“Shit’s wild,” Lambert agreed, inching towards the hors d’oeuvres, and Aiden rolled his eyes, coming with him. </p>
<p>Aiden was snagged for conversation by someone he knew and Lambert made polite and boring as hell small talk for Aiden's sake until he saw Yennefer at the tablet critically eyeing the macarons and excused himself. He sidled up to her. “Any good?” </p>
<p>“Awful,” she said with a sigh. “So hard to get good ones outside of Toussaint, it must be something in the water. So, when are you telling my two beloved idiots you’re married?” </p>
<p>Lambert really wished he could say he was surprised, but, well. He wasn’t. “Hopefully this week. When did you work it out?” </p>
<p>“I had my suspicions when you said you were moving, but the courthouse sealed it,” Yennefer said, flashing him a smile. “I approve, by the way. He’s darling.” </p>
<p>Lambert felt his face go hot and grabbed another flute of champagne from a passing waiter. “Whatever.” </p>
<p>Yennefer didn’t do anything so uncouth as snicker, but she did give him a very wicked grin. Jaskier seemed to materialize at her side, snagging one of the macarons. “Whatcha talking about?” </p>
<p>“Interpersonal issues regarding legal tax fraud,” Lambert said mildly.<br/>
Jaskier made a face, clearly missing the joke. “Gross, you two are so boring when you hang out together. Yenn, come help, the Dean’s caught Geralt and he’s turned into a block of wood, and I can’t intervene without getting words for it later.” </p>
<p>Sure enough, Lambert could see Geralt standing stiffly in front of an eagerly talking hawkish woman, presumably the Dean. Yennefer sighed, taking Jaskier’s arm, and swept over to go and save their wayward partner. </p>
<p>Aiden found him a few minutes later as the orchestra started tuning and warming up, and Lambert hummed pleasantly as he finished off the champagne and Aiden’s hand slid across his back to rest in a proprietary sort of way around his waist. Aiden’s eyes darkened as they met Lambert’s, and it was incredibly satisfying to watch the pupils dilate with want. Lambert placed his champagne flute on the tray of a passing waiter, and gave him a thoroughly dangerous smile.</p>
<p>“What are you going to do if I never want to take you to bed?” he murmured, and Aiden inhaled sharp and jagged. </p>
<p>“Find someone who really doesn’t mind me calling another name when I fuck them, obviously,” he replied, just as quiet.</p>
<p>Lambert’s smile widened. “Now there’s a thought.” </p>
<p>“You’re going to be the death of me, and I thank you for it,” Aiden said fervently, taking his hand and bending to kiss it. His lips brushed Lambert’s wedding ring, and Lambert felt another sharp, hungry burst of desire before firmly tamping it down. </p>
<p>When Aiden straightened up Lambert murmured, “You should find yourself someone tonight. I miss you in bed.” </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Aiden breathed, eyes darker than ever. “You’re a menace.” </p>
<p>“Mm, professionally.” Lambert let his hand drop to the one at his waist, absently stroking along the soft skin. “Come on, husband. You wanted to show me off, do so.” </p>
<p>“You’re sure?” </p>
<p>Lambert snapped his fingers imperiously, pointing at his skirt. “Train.” </p>
<p>“It really concerns me how much I like it when you’re a little mean to me,” Aiden said conversationally, gathering it to place the loop in his hand. Lambert took it graciously, and Aiden led them out to the dance floor where other couples were starting to gather. Aiden had taken the time to teach him a wide variety of dances, though he still liked the Spallanese waltz the best, and when the first thrum of a fast waltz lit up the room, he found himself grinning. </p>
<p>“Oh, dangerous games we’re playing,” Aiden said, stepping out onto the floor and bowing. Lambert sank into a very reasonable curtsy, and they smoothly came together, Lambert’s hand gracefully extended to accommodate the train. He caught sight of Geralt, wide eyed at the edge of the crowd, and casually turned his head as he fell into the well trained curve. </p>
<p>And then- the dance. </p>
<p>The thing was, they were <em>really fucking good</em> together, and Aiden was a fantastic teacher and excellent lead. Lambert was fully aware that Aiden was showing off, and more specifically showing him off among the other swirling skirts and suit coats. The satin of the emerald dress was meant to be eye-catching, the slick fabric shining even in the lower lighting of the ballroom. Lambert never feared putting a single step wrong, light on his feet as Aiden spun them in easy natural turns and out into flamboyant twists, and when the music came to a close Lambert found himself dipped before being pulled back upright. </p>
<p>“Yennefer knows,” he said as the next dance started, this one a regular waltz, and Aiden was about to say something but Geralt loomed up and tapped him on the shoulder. </p>
<p>“May I cut in?” Geralt asked, and Aiden graciously stepped aside. Lambert rolled his eyes but took his sibling’s hand, the pair of them starting into the slower waltz. </p>
<p>“Come to chat?” </p>
<p>“I don’t get to spend much time with you,” Geralt said simply, smiling. He was fine at leading, though not as obviously trained to it like Aiden was, and the dance itself felt much more casual. “It was a selling point of coming tonight.” </p>
<p>Lambert rolled his eyes. “You could just call, like a normal person.” </p>
<p>“Mm, no,” Geralt said, and Lambert got another flash of Geralt’s smile, awkward and odd as it was. “You should come to the house soon. With Aiden.” </p>
<p>“You want to teach him to ride,” Lambert realized, sighing. Geralt shrugged, but there was amusement to it, meaning Lambert had got it right. “He’s a city kid, Geralt, he doesn’t know the first thing about horses.” </p>
<p>“Then he should learn.” </p>
<p>“Fine,” Lambert sighed, mock put upon. “I’ll bring him so you can make him meet horses.” </p>
<p>Geralt smiled again, and as they turned, he said, “So. I see you’ve got a ring on your left hand.” </p>
<p>“I do,” Lambert said, resigned. This wasn’t how he wanted to have this conversation. </p>
<p>“Want to explain that?” </p>
<p>“Well…” So Lambert did, and by the end of it Geralt looked very thoughtful. </p>
<p>“You know,” he said conversationally, “I thought you were just a sugar daddy for him.” </p>
<p>Lambert very nearly tripped over his own feet, only staying upright with Geralt’s solid muscle to hold him. He didn’t shriek out of sheer shock, gaping at a slightly red faced Geralt as they spun. “Are you fucking <em>kidding me</em>, that’s what you- Oh my fucking gods, Geralt! No!” </p>
<p>“You’ve spent a lot of money on him, you moved him into a very nice apartment, you spend lots of time with him,” Geralt said, flushing a little. “It wouldn’t be that much of a scandal, I was just… surprised you were taking up with a married man. And then I saw you with him and thought maybe not, and then tonight you were in the dress and he was looking at you like you hung the moon and I saw the ring, so. I guess it’s more that I couldn’t figure out a reason. And that made… some sense.” </p>
<p>“I loathe and despise you,” Lambert said, knowing he was just as red as Geralt. “Don’t you <em>dare</em> tell Jaskier the truth, and never bring this up in my presence again.” </p>
<p>“Deal.” </p>
<p>Geralt led him off the dance floor, and Aiden raised an eyebrow over his champagne glass as Lambert rejoined him. </p>
<p>“So,” Lambert said. “Geralt thought you were a sugar baby.” </p>
<p>Aiden choked on his champagne. </p>
<p>Lambert and Aiden did a lot of dancing, sometimes switching out with different partners while the other took a break or Aiden spotted someone he wanted a word with. Jaskier grabbed Lambert for some fast paced cha-cha, Yennefer catching him for a frankly very fun fox trot, and Geralt found him for yet another waltz later. It was overall a very good night, and as things were winding down Lambert spotted someone leaning rather suggestively by Aiden as he finished his waltz with Geralt. </p>
<p>“Oh, thank fuck,” Lambert muttered, and Geralt made an inquiring noise. “Remember that conversation we had about whether or not it was weird to not be jealous of people fucking around?” </p>
<p>“Ahhh,” Geralt said sagely. “I see.” </p>
<p>Lambert nodded to him before going over to Aiden, who was laughing very prettily and had clearly charmed the hell out of his conversation partner if the way the man was looking at him was anything to go by. The man was about Lambert’s height, much more willowy, and had brown hair neatly tamed on his head to pair with a very nice suit. </p>
<p>“Lambert!” Aiden said, delighted, and the man jolted. “Oh, Ferrin, this is my husband. Lambert, Ferrin, who I am hoping is going to be taking me home with him. ” </p>
<p>The man looked more than a little startled at Aiden’s blunt explanation, but Lambert just sighed with relief. “Oh, good, thank fuck.” </p>
<p>“You… don’t mind?” Ferrin asked, looking suddenly very relieved and thrilled, and Lambert waved a hand. </p>
<p>“Absolutely not, <em>please</em> take him off my hands for a bit,” he said, rolling his eyes when Aiden made a noise of offense. “Have fun. Don’t break him, and don’t tell me about it unless I ask. Just let me know when you leave. You have your keys?” </p>
<p>“Yep,” Aiden said, and took his hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you for thinking of me.” </p>
<p>“I’m thinking of myself, I don’t want to get a call that you’re locked out,” Lambert snorted. Ferrin laughed, looking much more relaxed, and Lambert nodded to him. “Nice to meet you, have a very good night.” </p>
<p>Aiden and Ferrin left not long after, Aiden kissing his cheek as he said goodbye, and Lambert left a little after that, gathering his things and going home in comfortable silence, the alcohol long since out of his system between the dancing and food. He got the dress hung up and his clothes in the laundry, broke out yet more absinthe and made it with the dripper for some ice cold enjoyment as he started the bath and dropped a bath bomb in. Thoroughly satisfied, he sank into it and relaxed into the warmth as he drank. </p>
<p>Fucking <em>fantastic</em> evening. </p>
<p>He felt more like himself than he had in a long while, but he also now very badly wanted to get on his leathers and go stomp through the woods and possibly go take down a whole ass manticore on his own. It felt good to feel like himself in his skin. He could be a man of multiple identities, and he wasn’t even a man to start with, so, ha. Ball gowns and dual swords and double majors and good furniture and better food, he could be all of those things and more. </p>
<p>A good husband, too. </p>
<p>He could be that. </p>
<p>He was <em>being</em> that. </p>
<p>Lambert smiled to himself, and settled comfortably. The jets were doing wonderful things to his muscles. </p>
<p>When he finally dragged himself out of the bath, he pulled on the softest of his sleepwear, namely a pair of loose pants that had been worn to impossible softness over the years and a shift that was well over 10 years old, and curled up in the soothing comfort of his bed. His room still wasn’t done, still more empty than he would like, and he decided sleepily that he was going to go find a desk and chair at some point so he could work in his room. He really should make a list of the furniture he wanted…</p>
<p>The dip of the bed as someone climbed into it woke him. The world was dark and still, calm as could be, and he blearily opened his eyes to find Aiden climbing into bed. </p>
<p>“Mm?” he managed, and Aiden reached over to stroke his cheek. </p>
<p>“Back before dawn,” he said quietly, smiling. “Like you asked, that very first day. Go back to sleep, love. I’ll still be here in the morning.” </p>
<p>And he was, when Lambert sat up some time after 8. His hair was a halo of brown curls on the pillows, mouth open as he snored softly, limbs sprawled in the artless glory of the well and truly asleep and sated. Lambert grinned, reaching up to gently card through his curls, and bent down so kiss his temple. Aiden snorted and shifted in his sleep, whining a little, and Lambert watched him for much too long before climbing out of bed to go and make him pancakes. </p>
<p>Yes, he thought when Aiden stumbled in, lured by the smell, and let himself be kissed with sloppy, sleep loose enthusiasm, marriage was fucking great.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lambert's gown can be seen here: https://oksana-mukha.com/evening-dresses/1607<br/>The piece they dance to in the living room is this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPzzdpLv75M (and because I think I'm cute, it's a violin and piano duet because Lambert is sturdy and set in his ways and Aiden has always been light and moving around and now has a place to stay put)<br/>---<br/>Fun Worldbuilding Fact Time:<br/>In modern Kaedwen, children are not named in the hospital but instead brought to a Regional courthouse and formally named there in front of family, friends, and the law. This is a Naming, and following that there's a Registration, in which their new name is added to the records of the Region and to a family Registry if their family is Kaedweni and want to have one listed. At 20, Kaedweni citizens have a formal debut ceremony that announces them as full adults at the Registrars (you can vote and marry at 18, drink and enlist in military service at 20) and can update their Registry to reflect a new name or corrected gender for free. (You can also do this earlier and people are generally pretty good about gender identity even if you're under 20, they figure you're just waiting to do it for free instead of paying for it.) Lambert changed to the nonbinary X then, and Geralt changed his name from Geralt Wilkson to Geralt zi Rivia and also took the nonbinary X then. </p>
<p>Lambert's black gown is from his debut as an adult, and that was also when he got his fancy armor set.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: alcohol consumption (no abuse of it), mentions of parental neglect</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you aware your husband is giving people lap dances in the living room," was Coën's opening line when he opened Lambert's closet door bearing a bottle of really nice rosé, and he was nearly drowned out by the sheer volume of the party going on outside of the walk-in. Lambert, from his position on the closet floor, snorted. </p>
<p>"Unfortunately. Close the door, you're letting the noise in." </p>
<p>Coën obediently closed the door, and looked around the walk-in closet. Lambert was honestly pretty proud of it. On the left were all of his clothes, either hung or in his dresser, and on the right he had set up a space just for himself because fuck everything else, it was <em>his</em> space. All it was, really, was a massive nest of blankets and pillows, with a sheet hanging down from the shelf to enclose the space a little. There were also fairy lights, battery operated, because he’d considered the idea of actually putting in a lamp and given up when he’d realized he’d have to run an extension cord. He had also added a small bedside table that was currently hosting a luxurious meat and cheese and fruit spread, and had a few small precious things in the drawers. </p>
<p>His jewelry box was also currently in the closet with him, because theater people could not be trusted not to put on random shit, and Lambert didn’t want anyone walking off with his things.</p>
<p>“Huh,” Coën said mildly, and sat down in the blankets. “I like this. Cozy.” </p>
<p>“Thanks. Can I offer you some grapes in this trying time?”</p>
<p>“Ooh, you absolutely can. I don’t suppose you have cups?” </p>
<p>Lambert did not, so he sighed, and got up to go and brave the outside world. </p>
<p>The party was in full swing, people milling about the house in various states of drunken revelry. He squeezed past a pair of women enthusing about something in matching skin tight neon pink, stepped over someone giving a yoga demonstration in little more than briefs, and sidled around a couple in hideous faux fur and mid 1800’s clothes having a passionate makeout session against the wall. Someone was playing what sounded like Nazairi electro-rap, and there were at least five people doing some sort of interpretive dance in the corner. Above it all, Aiden had hung a banner in cheery letters reading “BE GONE BY MIDNIGHT”, and Lambert felt his mouth twitch into a smile at the sight of it before he ducked into the kitchen.</p>
<p> Aiden had wisely insisted on them getting some sturdy plastic cups for the evening, knowing exactly how Lambert would feel about it if his glassware was damaged, and said glassware was currently hidden in a box under Lambert’s bed for safekeeping. Lambert swiped two of the cups and was on his way to go hide again when Aiden skidded into his view in front of him and threw his arms around his neck. </p>
<p>“Heyyy,” he crooned, and Lambert grinned, leaning in for a quick kiss. Aiden swayed back and forth, grinning at him. It was somehow sloppy. “Aww, thank you!” </p>
<p>“You,” Lambert said, fond, “are very drunk.” </p>
<p>“I <em>am</em>,” Aiden agreed, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek. Someone wolf whistled at them, and Lambert casually flipped them off without taking his attention off of Aiden. “S’nice. S’been… a while. I met Coën! Your friend. I let- I let him in. I like him. He’s <em>pretty</em>.” </p>
<p>Coën was arguably one of the most beautiful people on the planet, and even Lambert was fully aware of this. Coën was only not a model because he was morally opposed to being used for advertising purposes, which, fair. </p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s alright,” he said, and kissed his cheek. He was 95% sure there were people fucking on the chaise, and he wanted to get back to Coën and out of this room. “Remember to drink water at some point, I’m going to go.” </p>
<p>“Awwwww,” Aiden whined, but let him go, only to be wheeled back into the milling throng. </p>
<p>Coën grinned at him when he came back in. “Oh, fuck yeah, cups.” </p>
<p>“The glassware’s put away so you’ll have to deal with this,” Lambert said, handing one off to him. </p>
<p>“You’re so fucking bougie.” </p>
<p>“I like nice things, fuck you!”</p>
<p>Coën just laughed, and once the rosé was poured and they were well into it he said, “So, why are you hiding in here and not out partying with them?” </p>
<p>“Mmm,” Lambert hummed, making a face. “Loud, for one. And I don’t know anyone and don’t particularly want to. They speak a different language than I do and I just can’t bring myself to care about the intricacies of stretch spandex.” </p>
<p>Coën leaned against the wall, grinning. “Different language?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, theater language,” Lambert said, groaning. “They say the same words but they mean them different ways, and we can talk all we want but I’m still not going to understand it any more than I already do, not without Aiden to smooth it over and translate. And he’s three sheets to the wind so that won’t be happening tonight. S’weird, isn’t it? Language. Like you barely understanding me when we first met.” </p>
<p>Coën chuckled, knocking their shoulders together. “Well you definitely didn’t go out of your way to make yourself understood, at first. You’re a bit better about it now. You thought every overture I made was an attack on you personally.” </p>
<p>“Communication styles, what a trip,” Lambert sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “This is what comes of you being out of Kovir and me out of Kaedwen, weird communication issues. You asked me to cut on the flames once, d’you remember? I thought you were fucking batshit, I had no clue what you were going on about. “Turn them on, Lambert”, like I was supposed to know that “cut” meant turn something on. Seems like an ending, not an opening.” </p>
<p>“I think it must be a regional dialect thing,” Coën mused. </p>
<p>“It is, looked it up,” Lambert confirmed. “Survey of Lower Koviri linguistic structures in the Rirant region, 2008, Andekson and Illumand. S’why I started taking linguistics, you know. I wanted to… I don’t fucking know. Understand, I guess. I’m bad with people, you know this.” </p>
<p>“I do know this,” Coën agreed, placid. </p>
<p>“Fuck off. But I wanted something. Just. A way to understand, a little, so I could stop biting your head off.” He grimaced at the rosé. “I am way tipsier than I should be on fucking rosé. But. Well. I had Keira, and you met her, she was all sorts of crazy ideas in a five pound bag fit to bust the seams and I love her for it, but by the time she left it was just her, my family, and you that were constants in my life. And I didn’t want you to go. So I learned.” </p>
<p>“Hey now, I learned too,” Coën said, snagging the bottle to refill his glass. “Slower. But I did learn.” </p>
<p>“You <em>did</em>,” Lambert said with quiet happiness, leaning over to rest his head on his shoulder. “Thank you for that.” </p>
<p>“You are real soft right now.” </p>
<p>“Shut up, I’m allowed.” </p>
<p>There was a knock at the closet door, and Aiden’s voice came trailing in. “Laaaamb? Is Coën… Is he staying in the guest room or heading home?” </p>
<p>“You have a guest room?” Coën said, marveling. </p>
<p>“Only technically, it’s mostly a den. Are you staying tonight?” </p>
<p>“I mean, sure?” </p>
<p>“He’s staying,” Lambert called back, and Aiden made a pleased noise and apparently wandered away. “This three bedroom thing is fucking great.” </p>
<p>Coën hummed, and said thoughtfully, “Are the other places here still empty? It looked empty when I came up.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, the wraith’s gone but apparently the place has a reputation now,” Lambert said, sipping at his rosé. “Why, you and Shani finally looking for a place together? Rent’s not bad here, a little more expensive than mine for you since I’m getting the killed-the-wraith discount, but Shani’s making good money. View wouldn’t be as nice but it’s still not bad.” </p>
<p>“You have a fantastic view,” Coën mused. “Huh. I’ll talk to her about it. We’ve been tentatively looking at places.” </p>
<p>“Nice.” </p>
<p>“Yeah.” </p>
<p>At midnight the first of the people started to be shooed out the door, as evidenced by the sudden drop in volume of noise, and Lambert sighed in relief. There were definitely going to be people sleeping on the couch or the chaise, and probably at least a couple in Aiden’s bed, but for the most part he’d only have to deal with a few people in the morning. </p>
<p>They stayed up talking until two, which seemed to be the same thing happening in the other part of the house, but Coën eventually started yawning and Lambert dug out some clothes for him to sleep in, pausing when he saw Coën’s eyes lingering on the oversized silky nightgown shoved in the corner of a drawer. </p>
<p>“Want to try that instead?” he asked.</p>
<p>Coën bit his lip, and nodded. Lambert fished it out and tossed it to him. Coën was built sturdy but slender, and his shoulders were more broad but fit the knee length purple nightgown very nicely. Lambert wasn’t even sure when or why he’d bought it, it wasn’t even remotely to his taste, but it was striking against Coën’s skin. Coën looked up at him, a little uncertain. </p>
<p>“Nice,” Lambert informed him, and Coën grinned. </p>
<p>“Don’t think I’m ever going to want to run around in skirts like you do, but this is… nice.” </p>
<p>“Fair enough.” </p>
<p>Aiden was in the middle of aggressively eating bread when Lambert wandered into the kitchen for a bite to eat, and waved cheerfully at him as he powered through it. There was also a very tall glass half full of water. </p>
<p>“Sobering up?” Lambert asked, and Aiden nodded around his bread. “Great, you’re annoying as shit when you’re hung over.” </p>
<p>Aiden cheerfully flipped him off, and Lambert kissed his temple before going to make sure that everything was settled. There were three people in Aiden’s bed already snoring, Coën in the guest room, another two people on the couch, and one on the chaise cradling a bottle of really cheap tequila. Lambert tugged the bottle away and unceremoniously dropped a blanket on the guy. The house was shockingly clean for party aftermath, and Lambert nodded his approval at his sleeping guests before going to drop himself into bed. </p>
<p>He woke up with Aiden sprawled on his chest, drooling and snoring, and after some wriggling managed to push him off. He stumbled into the kitchen and started pulling out everything he needed for pancakes and getting them started. </p>
<p>It took approximately 4 minutes after he flipped the first ones that the smell alerted people to his intentions, and a straggling horde of mildly-to-very hungover people came staggering into the kitchen to watch him cook, clustering around the island with big eyes and blankets clutched over their shoulders. It was a bit funny, actually, watching all of these wide eyed college kids following the movement of his hands as he poured, flipped, and stacked. Coën joined them after a while, leaning into someone and yawning.</p>
<p>“Start clearing out the trash,” Lambert said at last, and they all jumped, the spell of early morning hypnotic movement broken. “And one of you get the plates stacked over here so people can eat.” </p>
<p>The cluster broke into a frenzy of movement, and Lambert serenely kept at his pancakes as Aiden stumbled out and shoved his face against his back, arms wrapping around his waist. </p>
<p>“Hungover?” </p>
<p>Aiden groaned. </p>
<p>“Well, I’m making pancakes, and we have blueberries.” </p>
<p>“I love you <em>so much</em>,” Aiden mumbled into his back. </p>
<p>With the sort of reverential treatment given to a saint, everyone thanked him and devoured breakfast. They were all finally gone by about noon, straggling out the door. Coën was the last to go, talking quietly with Aiden before they exchanged hugs and Coën ducked out the door. </p>
<p>“Next time I’ll stay out for a while,” Lambert promised when Aiden came to cuddle him on the couch. “Yesterday it was just a bit too much.” </p>
<p>“Thanks, love,” Aiden sighed, content, and Lambert let him fall asleep against his shoulder as he started working on his final project for his Philosophy class. </p>
<p>He got all of three hours into his work before his phone buzzed. </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl <br/>:,(</p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>What, brat </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl <br/>wen u comink </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl <br/>Fucks sake<br/>I’ll ask when he’s free and tell you<br/>and learn how to type, I know you’re a good writer</p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl <br/>no u </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl<br/>Geralt that DOESN’T EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE </p>
<p>Text from: Horse Girl <br/>(: </p>
<p>Text to: Horse Girl <br/>Fuck you. </p>
<p>The answer was apparently the next day, because that was when Lambert found himself once again driving Aiden to Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer’s place, Aiden bouncing up and down the entire time and practically vibrating in place when he spotted the stables. It was well and truly fall now, long sleeve and almost-coat weather, and as Lambert parked at the garage he looked up at the mountains to see the way that had turned purple in the cold. There wasn’t much in the way of tree diversity on the steep cliffs, and what was there turned a muddy, muted purple that tended to melt into the mountains. </p>
<p>Beautiful, though. </p>
<p>It was definitely that. </p>
<p>Aiden took his arm as they walked up the long path leading to the stables, leaning his head against Lambert’s shoulder as they went. It was a crisp but nice day, steadily warming, and the tree lined drive had turned shades of brilliant, smoldering gold as the poplars prepared for winter’s blasts. Aiden took great joy in stomping on leaves, and after a few extremely satisfying crunches Lambert joined him in hunting for the best crunching leaf. They wound up chasing each other, Aiden shrieking his outrage as Lambert's boots found leaves before him.</p>
<p>They were both laughing by the time they reached the stable, and Geralt peered through the open door with a little smile. </p>
<p>“Hello,” he said, quiet and tentative, and Aiden waved at him. </p>
<p>“Hi, Geralt! Thanks for having me!” </p>
<p>“No trouble,” Geralt said, and ducked back into the barn. Lambert pushed the door open a little wider for a bit more light, and Aiden stepped in and looked around in absolute fascination. </p>
<p>“Oh, it’s <em>huge</em>,” he breathed, eyes wide. </p>
<p>“Space for 20, we've 10 here now,” Geralt confirmed, and Aiden’s eyes widened. </p>
<p>The stable was a massive building with one long aisle, split in the center with an office, a bathroom, and two tack rooms. There were five stalls to each section, with sliding doors to the inside and outside spaces. Some of the horses had smaller corrals inside the larger, encompassing corrals, either to keep them safe or to keep them quarantined. The stable itself, classic red and white, sat atop a hill and was surrounded on all sides by pasture. Further down the property, leading out from one of the short hallways, was a small indoor arena, round pen, horse walker, and a dedicated field for jumping. Geralt had never told him where the money for it all came from, but Lambert had a feeling the massive lack of drowners anywhere north of the Yaruga had something to do with it. </p>
<p>“Renfri’s here,” Geralt said when the tour was done. “Thought you might like to meet Shrike.” </p>
<p>“Who’s Shrike?” Aiden asked. </p>
<p>“Her horse.” </p>
<p>Right on cue Renfri came in through one of the short hallway’s entries, leading a still unsaddled Shrike.</p>
<p>“Oh, you’re still gabbing,” she said dryly. “Give him some grain or something, geez.” </p>
<p>Geralt snorted, ruffling her hair as he passed and easily dodging a kick to his shins with long practice. He returned with a handful of oats, and nodded to Aiden for him to hold out his hand and take them. Aiden did, looking a little apprehensive. Lambert perched on one of the hay bales, watching as Renfri led Shrike over. Shrike was very pretty, just a little over pony height but still plenty long in the leg, a white-grey with soft brown spots, much lighter than a usual coat pattern. Aiden shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking back at him. </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, she’s nice,” Renfri said with the self assurance of 12 year olds everywhere. “Here, hold your hand out flat for her to smell and take the grain.” </p>
<p>Aiden looked on in trepidation, slowly reaching out his hand. Renfri demonstrated, and then gently pulled his arm forward so it was by Shrike’s nose. She huffed at it, sniffing this new thing, and Aiden’s eyes went very big and round all at once as he watched the movement. She lipped lightly at his hand, looking for the grain, and Aiden squeaked as she ate it. </p>
<p>“You can pet her now,” Renfri said, and Aiden slowly reached up to gently stroke down the length of her face, making a startled noise when he reached the softness of her nose.</p>
<p>“She’s so big,” Aiden whispered. “And soft.” </p>
<p>Renfri grinned. “Isn’t that the best? Their noses are softer than velvet.” </p>
<p>Aiden was wide eyed and clearly immediately in love. He inched closer, jolting a little as Shrike tipped her head to look at him a little better, and whispered, “This <em>is</em> the best.” </p>
<p>Geralt looked unbelievably smug, and Lambert rolled his eyes, kicking him in the ankle. </p>
<p>“Do not give my husband a horse as a wedding present,” he muttered, and Geralt’s smile grew wider. Lambert kicked him again, harder. </p>
<p>Renfri had lessons to do, which meant that she needed to saddle Shrike. Aiden followed after her and listened to her lecture with wide eyes. Renfri wisely realized that with his added height she wouldn’t have to do much heavy lifting, and easily conned him into doing the actual work of saddling Shrike with a Lyrian saddle. There weren’t many pieces to it, which made it easier and a good introduction for Aiden. Geralt leaned against the wall, looking quietly pleased as Renfri showed Aiden how a bridle worked and explained bit types to him. </p>
<p>“What are you going to do if Ciri isn’t interested in horses?” Lambert asked, grinning up at him. </p>
<p>“Cry,” Geralt said mildly, and Lambert snickered. </p>
<p>They went out to the jumping course that Geralt had set up and he set her to work, Aiden leaning on the fence to watch in fascination as she started around the course. Renfri was a natural in the saddle, with the same easy grace of movement that Geralt always showed off whenever astride, and Shrike responded to her without so much as an ear twitch of irritation. They were a very well matched pair, even if Shrike was still a little big for her. </p>
<p>“She’s good,” Lambert said after watching her go over a tall jump without batting an eye.</p>
<p>“Oh yes,” Geralt said, watching as they easily cleared jump after jump. “I’m going to win money on her when she starts competing. She’s a natural for steeplechasing, even if she's going to be near 6 feet. She’ll outgrow Shrike for steeplechasing, but she’ll be perfect for long endurance races like Ricton’s Path.” </p>
<p>Lambert raised an eyebrow. “6 feet.” </p>
<p>“Near. Mother was 5’11, sire’s close to the same. She’s already all leg and eats like she’s starving, feed her properly and she’ll be looking me in the eye soon,” Geralt said mildly, and then called, “Posture, Renfri!” </p>
<p>He got a vague wave in return, and an adjustment. </p>
<p>Geralt glanced at him, smiling just a little. “We can pony Aiden for a bit, Shrike’s going to need a cool down. Could go around the pond, just a jaunt. Let him see if he likes riding.” </p>
<p>“You damn well better put him on Roach 2,” Lambert said after a moment of torn indecision. “<em>If</em> he says yes.” </p>
<p>“Deal.” </p>
<p>Aiden, of course, said yes.</p>
<p>Lambert wasn’t like his brothers, who lived and breathed for life outside in the saddle with swords on their backs. He was perfectly fine on horseback, anyone raised by Vesemir with Geralt for a sibling would be, but he didn’t spend his hours thinking longingly of horse ownership and the headaches that came with it. At least, not unless he was really missing being out in the Preserve. Vesemir had offered to do as he had for Eskel and Geralt and get him a horse and to keep it with Mathilde, but Lambert had declined.</p>
<p>Maybe when he was settled for good and knew what he was doing with his life. For now, if he really got the urge to ride, Geralt had entirely more than enough horses. </p>
<p>Roach 5 was Geralt’s main working horse, high strung and temperamental as they came, and she was alarmingly smart to go with it. Roach 2 was elderly and mellow, a perfect beginners horse, and impossible to startle. Roach 3, who Lambert usually rode for casual afternoons, was even tempered but had to be watched carefully as she had old injuries that required extra padding or riding bareback for the most part. And then there was Roach 4, who was an absolute menace.</p>
<p>“Why are you coming?” Lambert asked, baffled, as Jaskier swung up into Roach 4’s saddle. Roach 4, who was some sort of mix between a cowhorse and a Nilfgaardian racer, did several fancy side steps until she soothed. Jaskier had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, dressed in his tan riding breeches, boots, and a frankly ridiculous flowy white shirt. “Where did you even come from?” </p>
<p>Jaskier stuck out his tongue at him, easily urging Roach 4 out of biting range of Roach 5. “I was in the house and saw you saddling up. And I’m coming because I like to spend time with you, Lambert, never mind my darling boyfriend.” </p>
<p>Renfri, switching out her Lyrian saddle for her bulky Kaedweni, said, “He wants to make Lady Yenn watch Ciri for a while.” </p>
<p>“There is also that,” Jaskier said, rubbing his face. “She’s <em>very</em> talkative today and I’m very tired.” </p>
<p>Lambert snorted, swinging up into Roach 3’s saddle. She huffed softly but let him settle, ears flicking back to check on him. They were well enough acquainted, and she was well trained. Unlike the bridles that the other Roaches had, she wore a hackamore, which had no bit to make her scarred mouth uncomfortable. Lambert had never gotten her full story from Geralt, but he knew she'd been worked hard and vicious for a long time. Normally Lambert rode her with the light Lyrian saddle, but without breeches available he'd gone for the mixed bag of Lyrian and Kaedweni that was a Mettinan saddle. It still had the same light Lyrian shape, but there was a small pommel and a high, comfortable back. </p>
<p>Aiden was on Roach 2 and learning about things like posture and stirrups from Renfri and Geralt. Lambert had had the good sense to know it was entirely likely they would end up riding and had insisted on Aiden wearing his heeled boots with the flat bottoms, which would work well enough for a short ride, and comfortable jeans. He looked quite comfortable in the saddle, and was holding the draping reins properly already in his right- Geralt must have noticed he was left handed. Roach 2 had a halter on with a lead rope attached to Shrike's saddle pommel, but it was good to start on good riding habits. </p>
<p>Aiden assured to be settled, Geralt easily swung up into the saddle and led them down the drive. The day had warmed enough to be comfortable in shirtsleeves, and </p>
<p>"Hand off the pommel," he said, nodding to Aiden's left hand. "Rest your right wrist on it if you need to."</p>
<p>Aiden grimaced but did so, letting his left hand go back to resting on his leg.</p>
<p>"Good," Lambert said. "The point of it is that you need your left hand free to do things. These saddles are for working, the kind that Jaskier's on is for pleasure riding. Hand should be left free for using a lariat or grabbing for your swords."</p>
<p>"I'm not a hunter or a cowboy," Aiden grumbled, but he was smiling. </p>
<p>"Good technique never hurt anyone," Lambert said in his most officious tones, and Aiden stuck his tongue out at him. Renfri cackled. </p>
<p>The route that took them to the local pond was a meandering loop down through a field, along the road, and down to a little pond off to the side, and then they’d loop back. It was especially beautiful in the fall, with the leaves changing color and falling to rest on the surface of the pond. Lambert found himself relaxing as Aiden chattered to Jaskier and Renfri, Geralt a reassuring bastion of calm and contentment nearby. They reached the turn down to the pond, and Jaskier perked up. </p>
<p>“I,” he said with a very pleased smile, “am going to go for a run. See you in a bit.” </p>
<p>He clicked his tongue and Roach 4 immediately lunged into a lope, passing them in a heartbeat. She loved to run, and Jaskier liked to let her have her head so she could stretch forward and really dig into it.</p>
<p>The annoying thing was, Jaskier was fantastic on horseback. He rode like he was built for it (and there was a joke there, certainly, but low hanging fruit), and Lambert watched as he easily moved with Roach 4 in her ground eating lope and shook his head. Renfri watched with longing, but made a face and stayed put after a glance at the lead rope tied to her pommel. Geralt, watching her, smiled a little. </p>
<p>“He looks like the lead in a historical drama,” Aiden marveled. Jaskier was on the opposite side of the pond now, shirt billowing as Roach 4 stretched her long legs into a racer's gallop. His hair was blowing dramatically in the wind, and the classic light Lyrian saddle and breeches paired with his tall black riding boots did nothing to dissuade the image. </p>
<p>Lambert glanced at Geralt, who was watching him with undisguised longing, and rolled his eyes. “Shrike’s ponying Roach 2 and I know where to take us, just go.” </p>
<p>Geralt flashed him a grin, and clicked his tongue once. In an instant Roach 5 was on the move, from a walk to a near gallop in a heartbeat’s length. Geralt called something to Jaskier, silver hair floating out behind him, and Jaskier laughed from across the pond, taunting. He gave Roach 4 her head, and the chase was on. Roach 5 was not about to be left behind. Aiden gasped as Geralt rounded the edge, and Renfri made a little noise of longing. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, leaning on the pommel of his saddle as he watched the sun catch on the pair of them, Jaskier laughing and Geralt grinning, silver and black played against white and tan. They really did make a beautiful pair. “Once in a while I can see what those idiots see in each other too.” </p>
<p>By the time they got back Renfri and Aiden were deep in conversation about different kinds of horses, mostly because Aiden had said, “Wait, there are kinds of horses?” and Renfri had looked mildly horrified at the notion there could only be one kind of horse. Lambert had just enjoyed his ride, the slight sting of cool autumn air starting to chill as the sun sunk towards the horizon. Jaskier and Geralt were still out, likely to be back shortly, so Renfri got Roach 2 loose and Lambert helped Aiden dismount. He came off light, well used to being careful with his feet, and Lambert felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he was still holding him around the waist. </p>
<p>“If I didn’t have ballet classes,” he sighed, looking longingly at Roach 2, who gently swished her tail. “And maybe fencing, if I can get started...” </p>
<p>“We’ll come when we can,” Lambert promised, sighing internally, but it was worth it for the massive, beaming smile that Aiden turned on him, followed very shortly by his face getting grabbed and kisses pressed all over it. </p>
<p>Renfri groaned. “<em>Gross</em>.” </p>
<p>Aiden laughed, pulling back. “Oh no, now there’s two of you.” </p>
<p>“You are absolutely right,” Lambert said to Renfri. “He’s very gross.” </p>
<p>Renfri considered them for a moment and then said, “I’m going to marry Deidre.” </p>
<p>Aiden’s eyebrows shot up. “You are?” </p>
<p>“Yep.” Renfri collected her brush to start brushing off Shrike. “I would pull the moon out of the sky for her if she asked.” </p>
<p>“Does Deidre know this?” Lambert asked, helping Aiden with the buckles of the saddle. </p>
<p>“No. But I figure she’ll find out eventually,” Renfri said, briskly working on Shrike. “I mean. Maybe I won’t, because like, consent and all of that stuff, but if I had a choice and she said yes I’d marry her in a heartbeat. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Like a princess. I mean, a real one, not like whatever I am, I don’t really count. And her dog is huge and looks like a wolf. She’s like a real life fairy tale.” </p>
<p>Aiden looked like Yule had come early, plopping down on a hay bale and propping his chin in his hands. </p>
<p>Lambert accepted that this meant he was going to be putting away all the tack while Aiden badgered Renfri about her plans for marriage, and just rolled his eyes and go to it. </p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass <br/>heads up, renfri’s set on marrying your daughter </p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass <br/>well i can think of worse matches</p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass <br/>if this were the 1600’s it’d be perfect <br/>princess of Caingorn and princess of Creyden </p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass <br/>Well i guess Renfri’s family wont be able to object <br/>the caingorn royalty is even older than them<br/>and they’re still bluebloods even after the ousting <br/>fuck the Ademeyns</p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass <br/>fuck the Ademeyns </p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass <br/>we’ll see how it goes <br/>renfri’s coming to learn about soapmaking in two days <br/>i’ll arrange for Deidre to come peek in at some point <br/>she needs to meet new people anyway </p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>Eskel, Eskel, ever the romantic </p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass <br/>I just rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out <br/>also STOP LEAVING EXPERIMENTS IN MY FRIDGE <br/>how did you even GET IN </p>
<p>Text to: Goat Ass <br/>whoops would you look at the time gotta go </p>
<p>Text from: Goat Ass <br/>LAMBERT </p>
<p>Lambert put his phone on silent, and went back out to finish up brushing the horses with a grin. </p>
<p>Jaskier and Geralt finally returned looking windswept and a little red faced, and Lambert gave them a very judgemental look before helping get their tack off and letting Geralt show Aiden how to check hooves for stones. Lambert went to help Jaskier brush down Roach 4.</p>
<p>“Please tell me you did not fuck off to go have a speedy fuck in the woods,” Lambert muttered. </p>
<p>“I mean, I can tell you that,” Jaskier said, keeping his voice down for Renfri’s sake. “But it would be a lie. Look, we have a toddler, do you think <em>any</em> of us are getting laid very much? Geralt’s been crawling out of his skin and so have I.” </p>
<p>“Well. That’s fair.” </p>
<p>“I’m inclined to agree.” </p>
<p>Once the horses were turned out into their respective corrals, they all traipsed down to the house to clean up and get ready for dinner. Yennefer had made dinner, a thoroughly hearty pot roast with potatoes, gravy, roasted carrots, and greens, and they all sat down to fall upon the food with enthusiasm. Renfri ate nearly as much as Geralt did, and still eagerly went on to go and get the pie from the kitchen for dessert. </p>
<p>Lambert watched her go, and glanced over to Geralt. Aiden was deep in conversation with Yennefer and Jaskier about something to do with art grants. “So. You expecting to get some paperwork when she turns 14?”</p>
<p>Geralt sighed. “Yeah. She’s practically mine already, the way her family treats it,” he said. “If things don’t change… We’re likely to end up with her staying here until she’s grown.” </p>
<p>“Two kids, huh,” Lambert said, and Geralt hummed. “Could be worse. I mean, at least this way you get a trial run at dealing with a teenager before you have to do it with Ciri.” </p>
<p>Geralt blanched and took a gulp of his drink. “Fuck.” </p>
<p>Renfri burst back in with the pie, beaming, and Lambert felt a twinge of fondness as she brought it to Geralt to cut. She was a good kid, clearly starved for affection, and she’d be a good addition to Geralt’s weird little family.</p>
<p>Dessert eaten, Renfri took Ciri to go play until she was tired, and Lambert gathered the dishes as Jaskier and Geralt joined Yennefer for a moment of quiet discussion. Aiden was already in the kitchen washing the pots and pans, and Lambert got the dishes in the dishwasher before sidling over and hooking a finger in one of Aiden’s belt loops, tugging him in for a kiss. </p>
<p>Aiden melted into him, fumbling off the water as Lambert deepened it. Damn, but it was nice to just kiss him, just enjoy the softness of having a body against his and the comfortable warmth of Aiden’s chest to chest. </p>
<p>There was a startled noise and they split apart, Lambert turning to see a wide eyed Jaskier looking at them. </p>
<p>“I can’t <em>believe</em> you,” Jaskier said, huffing. “I mean, I expect this sort of thing from me, but you? I just… It’s terribly romantic but really, Lambert? An affair?”</p>
<p>Lambert blinked and got the shape of it in an instant. He schooled his face into the picture of honest confusion. “Jaskier… what are you talking about?” </p>
<p>“You- Aiden- he-” Jaskier spluttered. Aiden cottoned on immediately, wrapping an arm around Lambert’s waist and leaning his head on his shoulder, eyes innocent. Lambert draped an arm around him in return, casually possessive.</p>
<p>“Jaskier,” Lambert said slowly, “we’re <em>married</em>. Don’t tell me you forgot?” </p>
<p>He held up his hand, wiggling his fingers to show the ring, and Aiden held up his own hand. </p>
<p>Jaskier stared. </p>
<p>He blinked. He opened his mouth. He closed it again. </p>
<p>Aiden said, “Something wrong, Jaskier?” </p>
<p>“Geraaaaaalt,” Jaskier called, not taking his eyes off of them, “bring me some silver, I need to check if Lambert’s a doppler.” </p>
<p>Geralt’s ugly, wheezing laugh echoed in from the other room, and he appeared in the doorway with Yennefer behind him, both of them smiling. Jaskier was gently pushed into the room, and he stared at the two with big, confused eyes. </p>
<p>“Oh, just tell him,” Yennefer laughed, reeling him in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’ve had your fun.” </p>
<p>So they told him, and the confusion faded into absolute delight as Jaskier took in the story. When they reached the bit with the stamps, he burst into laughter and had to sit down as he was overtaken by giggles, helpless. </p>
<p>“Only you!” He choked out between peals of laughter. “Only you, Lambert!” </p>
<p>He got up and came to throw his arms around Aiden, hugging him tight.</p>
<p>“Welcome,” he said, still grinning, and Aiden’s eyes lit up. “Finally, someone else to complain about these crazy people with. Yenn and I have been suffering, I’m so glad you’re part of our family.” </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Aiden choked out, looking moved, and Lambert smiled. </p>
<p>No more secrets. No more hiding. </p>
<p>When they finally left it was after dark had settled like a downy blanket over the world. The stars were covered with clouds, a warning of possible snow coming down in the night. Lambert drove through the seemingly endless darkness, the city beyond full of glowing light. All was quiet for a while, and then Aiden said softly, “Can we stop for a minute?” </p>
<p>“Stop…” </p>
<p>“The car. I want to talk.” </p>
<p>Ominous, but, well. It was a reasonable request. Lambert pulled over onto the shoulder of the dark road and turned off the car. The silence seemed to resonate, and Aiden took a deep breath. </p>
<p>“Did you…” he started, and then stopped. Lambert waited, and eventually Aiden began again. “Did you mean it. That I’d always have a place in your family?” </p>
<p>“Yes,” Lambert said, without question. “Divorced or not, doesn’t matter, you’ll still be family.” </p>
<p>“Oh.” Aiden ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, shaking breath.</p>
<p>Lambert watched him, his figure barely lit in the darkness. The lights of the city down in the valley were all the light they had, in this dark, quiet space, and they painted Aiden into a relief. He was beautiful, truly, utterly human and utterly glorious, and Lambert had never wanted to capture a moment more. So he fixed it in his memory, to think about whenever nights grew dark like this. </p>
<p>“You feeling alright?” he asked at last, when it became clear Aiden wasn’t sure where to go from that.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Aiden confessed eventually, his voice soft in the dark. “I don’t… I really don’t know. It’s strange to watch your family. I’ve never been around anyone like them. I didn’t know families could be… like that. Love like that. My brothers, they protected me, they kept me safe, but it was at a cost and for a price. I worked hard to deserve that. You don’t… you don’t make me work to deserve it. You just do it. You treat me like I’m something more. Like I’m important, and worth keeping safe. You treat me like the glassware, I guess. Good for every day and parties, kept safe if things might get to be too much. Everything in your life is quality. You buy nice sheets, you have a solid, dependable car, you like nice drinks and fine fabrics, you buy things built to last. It’s new to me, you know? To think that I can have nice things and the only cost you’ll gripe about is whether or not you’ll gripe about how we could find it for a fraction of the cost and double the quality if we allowed ourselves time. You’ve given me so many gifts, but the biggest is time. You’ve given me enough time to breathe and get my feet centered again. And I think about you on the chaise, safe and curled up against me- I cried, when you fell asleep. I sobbed for an hour, just holding you, because you told me you’d catch me and gave me somewhere to be caught without you even being there.” </p>
<p>His hand fumbled for Lambert’s in the dark, and Lambert took it, threading their fingers together to hold tight. </p>
<p>“You like things of quality,” Aiden continued, and his hand trembled. “And I guess. I guess that I might be quality, too, even after everything.” </p>
<p>Lambert tugged him over, the hug awkward with the console between them, but he didn’t care. Aiden clung to him, hard, and Lambert buried his face against the soft skin of his neck, nose filling with sandalwood and spice. </p>
<p>“You always were,” he said fiercely, and felt water fall on his skin. “Never a time you weren’t priceless. And I’ll tell you that every day if you need it, but you are. You’re- you’re worth it. You’re worth more than anything. All of it. Take everything away and leave me with only you, and I’ll consider myself better off in the bargain. Fuck anyone who made you feel like anything but precious.” </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Aiden whispered, inhaling on a wet sob. </p>
<p>They sat together in the dark, the lights of the city glittering beyond, and only when Aiden’s tears had stopped did Lambert start the car again and carry them away, back to their home in the golden light.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Love Like You" came on shuffle writing the ending and did I tear up? I sure fuckin did.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Aiden reflects on family, and Lambert is a pain.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Past medical treatment, including stitches, by an untrained minor. Sickness/fever/coughing. Implications of neglect leading to foot injury. Addiction mentions. </p><p>A note on Aiden's family: Axel and Cedric are Aiden's "brothers", because they all grew up in the same group home, but they are a married couple who do not consider themselves siblings in any manner. None of Aiden's siblings are legally or blood related to each other as a family unit, they're bonded by trauma. Not all of his situation will be clear from this reading, but I did want to clarify this part.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The coughing started two days into winter break. </p><p>Aiden didn’t think much of it at first. Lambert would just roll over in the mornings, with an unproductive cough, and curse vividly about the dry winter air brought on by the snow. And then he’d get out of bed and go do Lambert Things, which ranged anywhere from spending the day out in the wilds, doing whatever the hell he did when he wasn’t home, obsessively working on new corn relish recipes, or (once in a rare while) aggressively perusing home design magazines and expounding upon their flawed approaches to decorations and curtain choice with vindictive pleasure. Aiden loved him.</p><p>He was also going just the smallest bit fucking insane, because Lambert had seemingly boundless restless energy to burn off, and this was being channeled by teaching him swordplay. </p><p>On the whole, Aiden did not object to this. He’d wanted to learn, and he was learning. Ergo, he’d got what he wanted. </p><p>No, the problem was at the feet of something else entirely. </p><p>Lambert had no idea what relaxation was. </p><p>None. </p><p>“Darling husband,” Aiden had said, as he watched Lambert pace the length of the room like a caged tiger after a <em>three hour long</em> training session, followed by yet more dance instruction. “I am begging you to go run around outside for a while. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.” </p><p>Lambert growled something, but looked out the windows with undisguised desire. “...Fine.” </p><p>He fetched his coat, and Aiden let his head flop back on the couch as he sighed in relief. Lambert had run in the cold until he wore himself out, come back in to make dinner, and thankfully collapsed into bed early. </p><p>The cough had been a small annoyance. Just a small symptom of overwork and leftover, untreated exhaustion. </p><p>Now, staring down at Lambert as he sucked in ragged breaths and poured sweat, Aiden felt none of that relief from the day before. He’d gone to bed coughing a bit, but it was only when Aiden woke up that he’d realized what this really meant. </p><p>“Oh, fuck,” Aiden whispered, as Lambert opened bleary eyes. “Shit, shit, shit. I… How are you feeling?” </p><p>Lambert slowly blinked at him, having trouble focusing. “Sa’shemiach ele hauran.” </p><p>Aiden blinked. “Um.” </p><p>“Hirdurau. Elaim c’va?” Lambert didn’t wait for an answer, eyes falling shut again.</p><p>“Ohhhh no,” Aiden whispered, his stomach dropping out. “Oh, no, you’re delirious. Do I call a hospital? What am I supposed to do?” </p><p>He’d never had to help anyone when they were sick before. Gaetan had refused to let him help when he was sick, licking his wounds in private. Dasha rarely got sick and he was aggressively proactive about taking care of others so he’d handled the worst of it. Axel and Cedric had kept to themselves, bonded as they were. Treyse would have ripped his head off before letting him help. Kiyan was an equal no-goes for him going near when he was actually sick. And Aiden had just… tried not to die, really, when he was sick. He remembered Dasha taking care of him once or twice before he had to leave Stygga- He must have been 14, then, still weak from his year on the streets, because Dasha had become kept by his first lawyer about then. </p><p>Aiden looked at the clock on the wall. 7:22. Early, but at least some people would be awake.</p><p>He could call Dasha. Dasha <em>would</em> answer his calls, he always did, but if he did that ran the risk of him upsetting whoever was keeping him, if they were in bed. And that would be bad. He had Gaetan’s current number, since he went through them faster than water through a sieve but was good about updating it, <em>but</em> he might still be in rehab. Axel and Cedric were both locked up after that mess in Mettina, Treyse was a fucking nightmare and he’d rather die than owe him anything. Kiyan, maybe- Kiyan had liked him well enough and he was… well. Stable was not the way to describe him but he was mostly sane on good days. </p><p>He didn’t want to risk a bad day. Kiyan would personally come kick his ass if he interrupted him at work, and he was supposedly shacked up with a sorcerer right now so he could do it in a manner of seconds. </p><p>So. He was on his own.</p><p>“Internet, then,” Aiden muttered aloud, and set about digging up his phone. </p><p>The internet informed him helpfully that he needed to take Lambert in if his fever went over a certain range, to keep him hydrated, and that soup was a great comfort. It also said that the fever would make him feel cold even as he was sweating, so to be sure to have damp cloths on his head to help speed heat escape from the skin, preferably cool. </p><p>Which. All well and good. But. </p><p>“How the fuck am I supposed to know how hot you are?” Aiden asked his prone husband, who was no help at all, what with being unconscious. “I mean. You’re very hot. I look at you and legitimately get hot and bothered sometimes, which I wasn’t aware was a thing that could happen to a person until you came along and started being loving at me, and is also a phrase exclusively used by old people and therefore appropriate to you, Mister Strong-Opinions-About-Drapes. It’s a good thing you won’t remember this.” </p><p>Oh. Wait.</p><p>Thermometers, theoretically, were a thing that existed. </p><p>And Lambert being Lambert, he presumably had one. Somewhere. </p><p>Probably with the first aid kit? That would make a certain amount of sense. Aiden resolutely stood up to go and get it, and then remembered that he had no idea where their first aid kit was. At work they were usually in closets or break rooms, and at Stygga they’d kept one in just about every corner of the house since half the time Cedric would come home bleeding and need patching up.</p><p>Wounds, Aiden could handle. He could do wounds. He was great at stitches. Even Treyse had been proud of his stitches, because he could keep them super fine and they barely ever scarred. Kiyan had taught him, and Aiden had gotten <em>really</em> good at them by the time he’d left, because Kiyan would rather die than go to a doctor and nearly had a couple of times. He knew all about how to handle nasty gaping wounds and how to bandage them and he could reset bones and snap dislocated shoulders back in with the best of them. He had to know about bodies and their care. It was the least he could do for his brothers.</p><p>Fuck, was he panicking? He was just standing in the middle of the room, staring into space, trying to work out where to look. </p><p>He was panicking. </p><p>“Hmm,” he said, and shoved it down to go check the coat closet. No kit. The kitchen was similarly empty. He tried Lambert’s bathroom and finally found it under the sink, triumphantly pulling it out and rifling through it until he found the thermometer, and then paused, because this one was digital and looked nothing like cartoon ones or the one he'd used a few times when he was sick. Wait. </p><p>He pulled his phone back out. “how to use thermometer” returned results for rectal usage, so he hastily clarified “how to use thermometer ORAL” and got several useful results and one very not useful porn link for medical play he was definitely not interested in. The useful results were very useful indeed, and he managed to pry Lambert’s mouth open enough to hopefully shove the thing in there in the right place and waited. </p><p>He was definitely feverish, right on the cusp of danger range. </p><p>“Ohhhh, no,” Aiden groaned, looking at the numbers with growing panic. “We never specified in sickness and in health, Lamb, don’t do this to me.” </p><p>In an entirely not shocking turn of events, Lambert remained sick. </p><p>Aiden did what he could. He put the cool cloth on Lambert’s head, getting an incoherent, “Shiramai, l’shan?” in response, before he managed to get a bit of water into him. </p><p>About 10, when the fever went up again, the panic really set in. </p><p>He was on the verge of calling Dasha when Lambert’s phone buzzed, and Aiden looked at the phone like it was a lifeline. After some wrangling he managed to get it unlocked, loathing himself for the breach of privacy, only to freeze. </p><p>Lambert’s home screen was a picture of them. It was one he hadn’t ever seen before, him in Lambert’s lap talking enthusiastically about something while Lambert sat sprawled in a chair, beer bottle casually dangling from his hands and his legs casually thrown wide, grinning indulgently at him. It must have been that night of the student films, because Lambert hadn’t had an occasion to get shitfaced and wear that dress, and oh, fuck, now he was crying. Aiden furiously scrubbed at his eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing it down again. Crying wasn’t going to help literally anything, especially not Lambert, so he opened his contacts and immediately wanted to scream. </p><p>“Can you not, for once in your life, be less predictable,” he said to his husband. The first name on his contact list was “Actually Not Steve”, which set the tone for most of the rest of the contacts. He scrolled through them, feeling a burst of love through the panic. “Goat Ass” was probably Eskel. “Horse Girl” could be Geralt. There was someone just listed as “Daddy”, which was definitely not him since he found his number under “Husband”, which was unbearably sweet, and he considered that Daddy might be Vesemir but discarded it. Not quite Lambert’s sense of humor. There was also The Witch, Nuisance Bard, Yennefer (ergo, not The Witch), Chemistry 1020 (maybe Coen?), DO NOT ANSWER, DO NOT ANSWER SERIOUSLY, and Fuck No, along with a wide range of other such monikers. On his third scroll through he accepted defeat and called the number listed as “Daddy” just in case it actually was Vesemir. </p><p>It rang twice before someone picked up. </p><p>“This must be an emergency, for you to call,” Coen said, and Aiden spent a short moment despairing of Lambert’s entire existence. </p><p>“Hi, um, this is actually Aiden,” he said awkwardly. </p><p>There was a pause. “Oookay. Weird, but I’ll bite. What’s up?” </p><p>“Lambert’s sick, I was trying to reach Vesemir, but I couldn’t figure out what number was his so I- um. I started trying numbers.” </p><p>There was another pause, and then an extremely world weary sigh. “He still has me in his phone as “Daddy”, doesn’t he.” </p><p>“He does.” </p><p>“Fuck’s sake.” Coen at least sounded amused. “Try his emergency info in his phone, it might be somewhere in there.” </p><p>“Oh, that… makes a lot of sense, actually, thank you,” Aiden said, relieved. </p><p>“You got it. Call me back if you need anything, okay? Shani’s taught me plenty.” </p><p>It was a tempting thought, but… Frankly, Aiden wanted a parent. “Will do.” </p><p>Lambert’s emergency info had him listed as the first contact, which made Aiden’s heart do several backflips, and then had “Mama Bear” listed. Aiden stared at the name, and then looked at Lambert, who was shifting and wheezing in the bed. </p><p>“I hate you so much, you absolute gremlin,” he said, and reluctantly dialed “Mama Bear’s” number. </p><p>The phone rang exactly once before it picked up. </p><p>“What’s wrong?” the voice on the other line said, gruff and concerned, and Aiden wanted to cry with relief. Definitely Vesemir. </p><p>“Hi, this is Aiden, actually, um…” his voice broke. “Lambert’s sick, and I don’t know what to do, he’s got a fever and he was talking in some language I didn’t know and I broke into his phone to call you, and-” </p><p>“I’m on my way,” Vesemir said, the very picture of reassurance, and Aiden felt some terrified core of his heart ease at the straight-forward understanding. “I’ll be there soon. Try and get some liquids into him.” </p><p>“Okay,” Aiden sniffled. “You, oh, the address-” </p><p>“I have it, Aiden. I’ll be there soon.” </p><p>And he was, probably breaking a speed record, because Aiden let him in not 20 minutes later. </p><p>“Traffic was a little dense,” Vesemir said, taking off his boots, and Aiden did his best not to stare. “Hello, Aiden.”</p><p>Because. Well.</p><p>Aiden was human, and had all his vision, thank you. Vesemir was distressingly good looking for a man in the middle range of his 50’s, his hair a mass of silver streaked with some remaining black pulled into a tail at the back of his neck and his short trimmed beard equally salt-and-peppered. His nose wasn’t quite as prominent in its arch as Aiden's but certainly wasn’t shy about it- or the multiple breaks it had clearly suffered. His hair was swept back from the cold wind, his coat doing nothing to hide the sheer bulk of his arms and shoulders. He looked less like a gentleman scholar who taught fencing and more like a mastiff that had never quite forgotten it had been a guard dog. He'd met Vesemir at Deidre's adoption for a few minutes, but Vesemir in a suit versus Vesemir in casual clothing was a little startling. </p><p>And breathtaking. What was with all these damn beautiful people he had for in-laws now?</p><p>“Hi,” he said, for lack of anything better. “Sorry.” </p><p>Vesemir smiled at him, quietly reassuring. “Don’t fret, I’ve handled such things plenty of times. And I have the feeling you haven’t, before.” </p><p>“Ah, no,” Aiden said, feeling very awkward. “Your coat, may I-” </p><p>“Oh, certainly.” </p><p>Aiden carried away his coat to hang in the closet, and led him in to see Lambert. </p><p>“Oh, you were right to call,” Vesemir said with one look at him. Lambert’s eyes peeled open, and he blinked hazily at them. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat despite the cold compress on his head, and his skin was flushed.</p><p>“Chirra aguaiyon, Ves,” Lambert muttered, hazy. He sounded vaguely put out. “Ishama’ei, locaquin au.” </p><p>Vesemir shook his head, smiling a little. “Oh, Eskel will never hear the end of this.” </p><p>Aiden hovered at his side, shifting his weight. “I don’t know if he’s just rambling, or…” </p><p>“He’s delirious, he’s talking in a conlang that Eskel made years and years ago,” Vesemir explained. “Happens every time he gets a serious fever. We've never worked out why. Come on, I'll show you how to help keep the fever down." </p><p>Once they managed to get some more blankets on him and a small horde of ice packs wrapped in towels situated along the top of his head, Lambert finally relaxed enough to start falling asleep.</p><p>"He only gets sick every few years, he's careful with his health," Vesemir explained, closing the door to the bedroom. "If the fever doesn't come down by tomorrow morning, it's time for a doctor. And once it does break, he's a headache to deal with, but you should be fine. If he's too much, call Geralt. He's good with kids, and Lambert is absolutely a petulant little toddler when he's sick."</p><p>Aiden winced. "Oh, joy." He gestured at the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"</p><p>"If you've a bite to eat I wouldn't say no, and judging what house this is I'd bet you've something available," Vesemir said with an easy smile. "We should get to know each other."</p><p>Aiden screamed internally but returned the smile. "We have a leftover stew, if you don’t mind that?” </p><p>“Sounds perfect.” </p><p>They sat at the kitchen table together, Aiden doing his best not to fuss with the place settings and keep his breathing steady. Vesemir absently watched the world pass outside the massive windows as Aiden got food reheated and brought it over for both of them to eat together. They ate in silence for a while, Aiden watching vesemir out of the corner of his eye. </p><p>Finally, Vesemir said, “Aiden. I’m not going to eat you.” </p><p>Aiden just about jumped out of his skin at the sudden break in the silence. “I, uh, didn’t think you would?” </p><p>“You’re staring at me like you’re expecting me to rip your head off,” Vesemir says, smiling and setting down his spoon. “I won’t. Whatever your interactions with parents before, I think I can guess they weren’t very positive?” </p><p>Aiden looked at his stew. “Not really.” </p><p>“Well, I’m not here to give you a shovel talk or anything like that. Lambert’s a smart little brat, and he has little patience for unhappiness. He’s been well taught to be honest about his feelings, so don’t worry about that. If he’s uncomfortable, he’ll say.” Vesemir sat back in his chair. “And I like you well enough already. Like to know you more, certainly, but I’m not going to fight you on it if now’s not the time.” </p><p>Aiden licked his lips, uncertain. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do,” he said at last. “I’ve never met a parent before. No one’s kept me around that long, and I didn’t have any.” </p><p>“I’ve never met a son-in-law before,” Vesemir returns, “so we can both be out of our depth.” </p><p>Aiden’s brain scrambled for a moment before he found himself saying, “Lambert’s finally started showing me fencing, want to critique my form instead?” </p><p>And so that was what they did. </p><p>“Very good,” Vesemir praised as Aiden held a lunge with the weighted wooden practice sword. “Excellent form. You take to the footwork very quickly. Up again, let’s see your riposte again.” </p><p>Vesemir moved like water. Aiden had worked for years for the sort of effortless light motion that made dance beautiful, and he had a feeling he’d have to work for another thirty years at minimum to match Vesemir’s grace. He didn’t look like the kind of man built for grace and speed on first glance, but seeing him in action was unbelievable. He moved like he was born with a sword in his hand. </p><p>He ran Aiden through drills and a few quick spars before pausing and stepping back, considering him. Aiden, years of training having drilled this into him, obediently froze in position. Vesemir absently nudged a foot into a better spot, and then said, “This style is all wrong for you.” </p><p>“What?” Aiden said, surprised. </p><p>“The style is designed after the Wolf school’s swordwork, what’s been reconstructed,” Vesemir explained. “It’s the middle ground between Cat and Bear. Heavy hitting but meant to be well rounded, while the Bear school dug in and used sheer brute strength. Cat school focused on lightness and acrobatics, more of a hit and run kind of fighting style. And that’s reflected in what fencing we see come out of Mettina and Ebbing, Cintra, Sodden, all of that. Viper is even lighter and faster, regardless of size and speed, with some additional focus to unarmed martial arts. After Gorthur Gvaed was ripped apart, the first Nilfgaardian empire stole most of the Viper training materials to use, so we see plenty of their influence there still.” </p><p>Aiden stared, fascinated. “That’s cool.” </p><p>Vesemir smiled. “It is. I can give you a good grounding in basic fencing, but if you want to go further, I might have to look into finding you a teacher in the Cat style. There’s a few up here, and I have a friend who might be willing to work with me to teach at a distance.” </p><p>Aiden’s eyes widened, and he stammered out thanks that was casually brushed off with an easy smile. He was still thinking about it when they went and checked on Lambert again, and thought about it further when Vesemir finally left. </p><p>He put a new damp cloth on Lambert’s head, and wondered. He had always wanted to choreograph fights, not just dances. That had been his goal since Dunbarrow, and now… well, it wouldn’t hurt, would it? He could learn a lot. And while his portfolio was likely to be good enough for most grad school applications, it definitely wouldn’t damage his chances to have true classical training. He wouldn’t become a hunter, of course. He wasn’t strong enough for that. </p><p>But it might be nice…</p><p>Aiden shook his head, and went to take the old cloth away. </p><p>The fever broke early in the morning of the next day, and Lambert finally managed to get some restful sleep. Aiden did the same, stumbling into his room to collapse into his wonderful bed with a groan. He got a whole four hours before he could hear Lambert moving about, and shot out of bed to intercept his husband shuffling to the kitchen. </p><p>“Oh no you don’t,” Aiden said, spinning him around to march him back to bed. “I will bring you food on a tray but you are <em>not</em> making it today. What do you want?” </p><p>“Curry,” Lambert rasped, falling back into bed. He wrinkled his nose. “An’ clean sheets.” </p><p>“I will order food and change the sheets, go sit in your chair,” Aiden ordered, and Lambert slumped over to his desk chair and fell into it. Aiden stripped the bed and replaced the sheets, then ordered Lambert into it. Lambert went, pouting, and Aiden returned with curry on one of their breakfast trays once it arrived. Lambert made grumbling nonsense noises as he burrowed back down into the pillows. </p><p>“Want soup,” he muttered, and Aiden stared at him for a moment, decided not to kill him, and returned to the kitchen to acquire soup. </p><p>By the time he returned with soup, Lambert had returned to wanting curry, so Aiden brought him both. </p><p>He ate both, and then immediately passed out. </p><p>Aiden looked at both of the dishes on the tray as his husband snored loudly, and had the sneaking suspicion that Vesemir’s comment about Lambert being difficult when sick was an understatement. </p><p>He was right. </p><p>Logically, he knew (about the time that he bullied Lambert into sitting in the shower to at least get the worst of the stink of sick sweat off of him so he could strip the bedsheets and replace them again) that Lambert was just uncomfortable, bored, and hated being out of control of his situation. However, that did not make up for the sheer headache inducing mess that had been Lambert the rest of the day. First it had been breakfast, which had cycled between him wanting plain oatmeal, violently sugary cereal, and all the meat they had in the house. And then he couldn’t get comfortable, because there were too many pillows or not enough pillows, and the temperature was the worst. And then he had nothing he wanted to read and his phone was uninteresting and he was still just feverish enough that Aiden seriously was having trouble tracking his attempts at conversation. Then he didn’t want water, he wanted <em>pomegranate juice</em> for some reason, and then orange juice, and then some sort of sports drink, and then water again. And he really, <em>really</em> didn’t want Aiden to leave him alone. </p><p>Aiden buried his face in a pillow and screamed for a second before giving up and pulling out his phone. </p><p>Text to: Geralt<br/>
Hi, this is Aiden. Lambert’s sick and I was wondering if you had any advice?<br/>
I’m losing my mind, he’s very. uh. lively. and demanding. </p><p>Text from: Geralt<br/>
onw</p><p>Text to: Geralt<br/>
????</p><p>He didn’t receive a reply. A little confused, Aiden decided to focus on getting Lambert’s sheets into the washer, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang a little after Lambert had been ensconced back in bed and started asking for crackers. Baffled, he opened the door to find Geralt standing there with a tote bag and a look of serene determination. </p><p>“Uh,” Aiden said. </p><p>“Hi,” Geralt said, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You look dead on your feet.” </p><p>“I am, a bit,” Aiden said, giving him a strained smile. “I’ve never had to help anyone with being sick before.” </p><p>“It’s a learning curve. Especially with Lambert.” </p><p>Geralt kicked off his shoes and headed for the master bedroom, sparing an approving glance around at the massive windows before stepping inside. Lambert looked up from his sea of tissues, and scowled. </p><p>“What the fuck are you doing here?” </p><p>“Keeping your husband from strangling you,” Geralt said without batting an eye. He opened the tote bag and removed a very pink covered DVD case, followed immediately by a massive brown bottle of medicine. “I have all five seasons of City Loving and a bottle of ultra strength cough medicine. So. Are you going to behave and let your husband do nice things for you and watch this with me, or am I going to knock you out until you can remember your manners?” </p><p>Aiden stared at Geralt in awe.</p><p>Lambert glowerered, sinking back in his pillows. “...we’re starting on the third episode, the pilot’s trash.” </p><p>“We can do that,” Geralt agreed. He dropped the bag at the foot of the bed, gave Lambert a pointed look that could have not more clearly said, <em>stay put you little shit</em> if he’d yelled it, and went out to the kitchen. Aiden followed in his wake, marveling. </p><p>“Can you teach me how to do that?” he asked as Geralt filled up a glass of water. </p><p>Geralt gave him a sidelong look, and smiled a little. “He’s a marshmallow inside. Establish dominance and he’ll give you anything.” </p><p>Aiden felt his cheeks heat up at the innuendo, and not for the first time was grateful his skin was too dark to show a blush. “Oh.” </p><p>“Yep. I have age and authority on my side, but you’ll figure it out,” Geralt said, and smiled at him. “Go rest, I’ll deal with him.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Aiden said fervently. “If you decide to stay over feel free to use the guest room.” </p><p>He was out almost the second his head hit the pillow.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>By the end of the next day Lambert was more or less back to normal. Geralt spent the day with him, keeping him more or less confined to the bed to aid his recovery and keeping his hands busy with a variety of objects pulled out of the tote bag (namely spinners, embroidery, a pair of socks that needed mending, a braided leather bracelet with snaps, several puzzle boxes with some variety of sugary thing inside as a reward, and a literal abacus, which was so fascinating that Lambert paused the show they were watching to learn how to use it). Aiden spent the day stretching and going through routines, checking in when Lambert got particularly restless and wanted him.<p>But there were routines to do, and that was always well worth the time and effort. </p><p>He worked his way through the routine he’d done for “The Sorrow of Kiyan”, who ironically was who his brother had been named for. It was a difficult routine that required a few steps high on his toes that were uncomfortable at best, but for the most part it was sweeping movements and armwork.</p><p>Pointe was beyond him now, at least not for more than a few moments. After Dunbarrow had taken over his teaching, his feet had been too damaged to continue with it. He wasn’t that upset, honestly- It had been devastating when he found out, but he could still teach, and he wasn’t going to be a formal dancer anywhere. He could still do contemporary pieces and anything ballet related that wasn’t en pointe, and his students were wonderful and easy to teach. So he couldn’t perform formal solos, who cared? Ballet was always evolving anyway. </p><p>He went through it six times, until his arms were shaking and his legs complaining bitterly, before letting himself to collapse with a groan and find his phone. </p><p>To his surprise, he had texts in the Stygga groupchat, which saw messages about once a month. </p><p>Chat: KIYAN HAS NO RIGHTS (STOP CHANGING THE CHAT NAME)</p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
[Image: Dasha, leaning against the railing on the bow of a yacht, looking very lovely in loose white and black patterned palazzo pants and a fully unbuttoned white shirt hanging open, his long silver-blonde hair in a tail in the wind. He’s holding a drink and laughing.]<br/>
You’re suuuure I can’t tempt you all down to south Nilfgaard for Yule? </p><p>Text from: Kiyan<br/>
ugh fuck you Dasha that looks fantastic<br/>
oh i broke up with Ireneus btw, he was nuts<br/>
what does this one do </p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
Lawyer for some big business names<br/>
he’s getting too attached tho, i’m setting him loose after New Years</p><p>Text from: Gay-tan<br/>
anyone got a 20 for dinner </p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
long as it’s actually for dinner, yes </p><p>Text from: Kiyan<br/>
you’re out, then? </p><p>Text from: Gay-tan<br/>
Two days back, so far so good. someone’s got me work in Ard Carraigh<br/>
so<br/>
that’s great </p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
what’s the job? </p><p>Text from: Gay-tan<br/>
just factory work, but the pay’s decent<br/>
i thought Ireneus was the sane one? </p><p>Text from: Kiyan<br/>
first of all fuck you and secondly, he really was not<br/>
i turned him in to Ban Ard and he’s locked up in Poviss now </p><p>Text from: Gay-tan<br/>
what the fuck </p><p>Text from: Kiyan<br/>
yeah he was planning on doing human experimentation and shit?<br/>
i found his plans in his desk<br/>
looks like I got out by the skin of my teeth </p><p>Text to: Stygga Group<br/>
HOLY SHIT KIYAN </p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
Hi Aiden! </p><p>Text from: Kiyan<br/>
I KNOW RIGHT<br/>
how are you catling </p><p>Text from: Gay-tan<br/>
hi brat </p><p>[Kiyan has changed the Chat Name to: Aiden Lives! (Or does he)]</p><p>Text to: Group<br/>
rude Kiyan, lmao </p><p>Text from: Treyse The Troublemaker<br/>
fucks sake, Kiyan </p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
Hey Treyse</p><p>Text from: Kiyan<br/>
Oh shit he’s alive</p><p>Text from: Gay-tan<br/>
hi treyse </p><p>Text to: Group<br/>
Hi Treyse!!!</p><p>Aiden hesitated, looking at the group. This was the first time they’d all been online in who knew how fucking long, and even if Axel and Cedric weren’t there, the likelihood of them all being back together any time soon was slim to none. And. Well. </p><p>He hadn’t told them yet. </p><p>Text to: Group<br/>
Hey so um. Since most of us are here, can we video call? I have something I want to talk to you about. </p><p>Text from: Mama Dasha<br/>
well that’s not ominous at all </p><p>Text to: Group<br/>
No, no, it’s a good thing it’s just<br/>
you might be mad at me<br/>
and I dont want to do this over text </p><p>Text from: Treyse<br/>
again. ominous. </p><p>Someone started the call, and Aiden took a deep breath before answering. Dasha popped in first, lounging on the deck of a boat with deep blue water behind him. Treyse came in next, his hair up in a topknot and a new scar running down his cheek, frown firmly in place- he seemed to be in an apartment, rather dingy. Gaetan answered as he ducked into the corner of an alley, head freshly shaved and eyes less bloodshot than usual. Kiyan answered in what looked like the booth in a dive bar, dressed in his usual white shirt and black leather jacket, hair pompadoured up and his snakebites showing off points. </p><p>“Well, ain’t we all pretty,” Treyse drawled, bracing his chin on his hand. “Real quick, when are the idiots out of jail?” </p><p>“April,” Kiyan said, making a face. “Most of the charges were dropped and they’re behaving. I sent the prosecutor a fruit basket and told them if they didn’t get their shit together to be there for Aiden’s graduation I was using their credit to get cable.” </p><p>“Nice.” </p><p>Dasha shoved his hair out of his face, peering at them. “Aiden, what’s going on? And where <em>are</em> you?” </p><p>Aiden stood up, walking into his bedroom and shutting the door. “So… a few months back, I, um. I sent you those pictures of me and that friend running around having fun while I was drunk?” </p><p>“Oh yeah,” Gaetan said, nodding sagely. “The one in the dress.” </p><p>“S’a good dress,” Kiyan said, nodding as well. “<em>Legs</em>.” </p><p>This got a round of approving nods.</p><p>Aiden managed a tense smile. “I’ll tell him you said so. But, uh… I didn’t tell you how we met.” </p><p>Treyse sat back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?” </p><p>Aiden sat on his bed, settling against the headboard. “Okay, so in my defense, it was an accident, and I need you to let me get all the way through this.” And he launched into the story. There were a few interruptions along the way.</p><p>“Wait, why were you helping with a student film? I thought you were a Theater major.” </p><p>“He is, Treyse, fuck’s sake, people can have friends!” </p><p>“What do you mean, he had stamps in his wallet? Who carries stamps in their wallet? Is it like a religious thing?” </p><p>“You <em>moved in togeth-</em> oh, fuck, that’s beautiful flooring, is that oak? And granite counter tops? What do you mean the rent is that cheap?! Who died there- oh. Oh I see. Okay.” </p><p>“Gifts? You make certain you have the receipt, Aiden! You can’t just accept <em>gifts</em> from <em>strange men</em>- Oh, that’s… rather sweet reasoning honestly.” </p><p>“And,” Aiden summed up, screwing up his courage as his brothers all stared at him, expressions bouncing between delighted and just so very done, “I like him. A lot. I mean, I love him. And he loves me, but he’s working on the saying it bit. I, um. I know I’ve been a headache for most of our lives, and I’m sorry about all of the things you went through to keep me safe. I know that I- I know I failed to be what you wanted. But I’m trying, I really am, to be worth it. And he’s good, he’s so good to me. His family has been so kind, and haven’t pushed me for anything, and I just really want this to work out, you know? For more than just the tax benefits and nice place. I mean, even if we decide it’s not good to be together, I want to be his friend so <em>bad</em>. Please don’t be mad for not telling you?” </p><p>Kiyan heaved an explosive sigh. “Fuck, Aiden, no one’s mad at you.” </p><p>“I’m mad at you, a little,” Treyse said. </p><p>“Fuck off, Treyse,” Dasha said pleasantly, which made everyone wince in fear. Dasha’s Professional Pleasant Older Sibling voice was deadly. “Aiden, I’m upset we haven’t felt safe enough for you to tell until now, not upset with you.” </p><p>Treyse hummed. “Okay, I’d like to amend my being mad to being mad at you but knowing it’s a talking through shit in therapy kind of mad, not actually mad.” </p><p>Aiden heaved a sigh of relief, and then looked to Gaetan. He’d been the quietest throughout, and he was the closest in age to Aiden. “‘Tan?”</p><p>Gaetan huffed, rubbing his head. “I don’t know, Aiden, I gotta think about this shit. You dropped that you got <em>hitched</em> on us, that’s not exactly an easy thing to just deal with. Kinda pissed I wasn’t there.” </p><p>Aiden ducked his head, the words stinging. “No one was. And, um… If we stay together, we’re going to have a second wedding. So everyone can come, you know? I want him to know you. I know we’re not the closest people in the world, but you guys are all I have. I don’t have any family, I barely have friends. I just have you.” </p><p>“Oh, catling,” Kiyan sighed. It was their private nickname, the one only Kiyan used for him, and it made Aiden feel a little better just to hear it. “Legal or not, we’re family. A real weird one, let’s be very fucking clear, but we’re a nice little brotherhood. Even when we hate each other, which, if Treyse keeps sending me memes at 4 in the morning, is going to be sooner than later.” </p><p>Aiden smiled, and Gaetan looked mollified. </p><p>“Soooo,” Treyse drawled, and looked a little sheepish. “Uh. Since Aiden told us his big news, my turn, I guess. My girl’s having a kid.” </p><p>Aiden shrieked, the news followed by a chorus of shocked delight from everyone else. Renata, Treyse’s on-again-off-again girlfriend of many years, was a sweetheart who’d wanted kids since she was young and had been told early on that it was unlikely she’d ever be able to get pregnant.</p><p>“It’s not my blood, but that’s fine,” Treyse said when they’d calmed down enough to talk like normal people, “we knew it wasn’t possible with the two of us what with my issues. But she found a donor who looks a lot like me, and we found out about a week ago. We’re hoping for smooth sailing but, y’know. We’re expecting that it might not work out. Just wanted to tell you in case it did.” </p><p>“Treyse, I will stay in my position until we’re sure,” Dasha said, dead serious. “Anything you want, I’ll arrange for. Either that or I’ll go chat up an OBGYN, just say the word.” </p><p>Treyse ducked his head, grinning. “It’ll be fine, we’ve got good health care in Lyria.” </p><p>Kiyan whistled, leaning back against the wall. “Let’s see… Dasha’s down in south Nilfgaard but living in Toussaint with his man, Aiden got accidentally married, I dumped my piece of shit ex, Treyse is having a <em>kid</em>, Gaetan’s out of rehab, and Axel and Cedric are due out in a few months and still married. We are fucking killing it, everyone, good job.” </p><p>Gaetan snorted, but he was smiling a little. “We’ll see if I can stay out of rehab,” he said, reaching up to fiddle with the necklace he was wearing. “Feeling pretty good about it this time, at least.” </p><p>Dasha looked up and away from the screen, clearly hearing something. He smiled, nodding, and looked back. “I have to go, duty calls. I’ll talk to you all soon!” He disconnected quickly. </p><p>Treyse groaned. “Fuck, guess I better get dinner started. Brat, behave, and if you husband pulls any shit you <em>call us</em>. We’re used to getting our asses kicked for you, what’s one more time?” </p><p>“I will,” Aiden promised, feeling a surge of guilt, and Treyse waved and signed off. </p><p>Kiyan huffed, and shifted in his seat. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Well… since you two are the only ones left, you might as well hear it now. Dunbarrow’s dead. Heart attack, a week ago.” </p><p>Gaetan hissed, and Aiden felt his shoulders hunch in.</p><p>“Good,” Gaetan spat, “he deserved worse. Fuck that guy.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Kiyan said, and Aiden nodded, silent. “Aiden?”</p><p>“I’m good.” Aiden reached for his keys, grabbing the little Catrine to run his fingers over the fluff. “I guess I just kinda… thought he’d live forever. Just my own personal nightmare.”</p><p>“Well, he’s dead now,” Kiyan said briskly. “And we can go piss on his grave if you want.” </p><p>“I’ll think about it,” Aiden said, and Kiyan waved before ending his call. Gaetan eyed him, and Aiden gnawed at his lip, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He knew what Gaetan was wondering. “The worst he ever did to me was ignore me, ‘Tan. He never hurt me.” </p><p>“He stole your feet,” Gaetan said flatly. “He ruined your shot at a career on purpose. That counts.” </p><p>“Okay,” Aiden said, quiet. “But I-” </p><p>“No buts. I gotta go, but text me if you need me to call back, okay?” </p><p>“Okay.” </p><p>“I’ll try and come visit sometime, since I’ll just be in Ard Carraigh,” Gaetan said, and hung up without a goodbye. That was normal, though. </p><p>Aiden climbed off of his bed to go to Lambert’s room. Lambert was looking much better, but still cuddled up under the blankets with Geralt and clearly half asleep. They were both still watching some show about people living ridiculous lives in Novigrad, but Lambert stirred when Aiden climbed onto the bed and turned enough to look at him.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sizing the situation up.</p><p>Aiden just shook his head, laying down so he could rest his head on Lambert’s chest and let him wrap an arm around his shoulders. It was soothing, laying there with Lambert safe next to him and the bulk of Geralt close to reassure them both that they were well. Geralt’s big hand reached over Lambert to gently brush through his hair, reassuring in his silence. </p><p>He curled up against Lambert, and closed his eyes as Lambert bent to kiss the top of his head. </p><p>“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”</p><p>Aiden nodded. </p><p>“Okay,” Lambert said, and that was that. Simple and honest. Aiden relaxed, watching a female scientist complain about her shoes not being cute enough in a lab setting (which. What was this show, even?) and let himself just breathe. </p><p>Lambert’s thumb gently stroked over his arm, a little thing, and he felt himself settle. Even if Lambert was a nightmare when he was sick, they would be alright. He would be alright. </p><p>Aiden tried out a smile, and let it stay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which it is Yule, and family time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lambert, in retrospect, considered it almost funny how sneaky Aiden tried to be in introducing the idea of hosting a Yule gathering to him. </p><p>First it was magazines casually thrown on the coffee table, all of Lambert’s furiously guilty go-to’s for decor, and all of them the specific kind of Yule Special Issue that he would certainly hate-read and complain mightily about. Then it was a few decorative candles on the kitchen table, with a little red mat with snowflakes on it to protect the terrible, pitted surface (and fuck, they still didn’t have a new table). Then they suddenly had red dish towels. Red hand towels. Snowflake design shoe mat. Traditional runic decorations and charms for family and prosperity on the walls. Pine scented fragrance plug ins.  It was all rather a lot.</p><p>“Aiden,” Lambert said as he watched Aiden stare with deep fascination at the massive pine and holly wreath hanging up above the entrance to the grocery store start twinkling with fairy lights as the sun went down and they headed towards the store through the parking lot. “Do you want to have a Yule celebration?” </p><p>Aiden’s head whipped around. “<em>Can we?!</em>” </p><p>Lambert wanted very badly to heave an aggrieved sigh, but unfortunately, Aiden was looking at him with his eyes all wide and hopeful, and that stupid little voice in his head was rambling about Aiden not having a family, and Lambert might hate Yule celebrations in principle but he could tolerate something small. “Yeah, if you want. You know we’re invited to Vesemir’s for the vigil, right?” </p><p>“Oh, yes, but…” Aiden followed him into the store, absently grabbing a cart. “But I’ve never done any of the traditional stuff. With the sun ceremonies and all of that? We exchanged gifts sometimes, when we had money, but we never decorated or anything, and Dasha only went to the Winter solstice rituals because his partner was really big on the wheel of the year stuff. The decorations are so pretty...” </p><p>Lambert grabbed a few vegetables, grimacing. “Do you want to go all the way out to some standing stones for the formalities, or can we do it at home?”</p><p>“You can do the ritual at home?” Aiden asked, eager, and Lambert realized very quickly that this was going to become a Thing. </p><p>There were the usual religions on the Continent still. Melitele, Lebioda, the fucking shit weasels that called themselves the Eternal Fire, and the Cult of the Sun were still thriving in time with all of the other, smaller things that had popped up. Some people had rediscovered their elven heritage and followed their rites after being formally adopted back into the community, like Coen’s family had. Those rites were based on lunar movement. And then there were those who still worshipped the Wheel, the rites and harvests passed down through the centuries, which wasn’t really a religion at all and more a jumble of folklore and history given vague shape. Kaedwen was mostly of this variety, and most people made some sort of attempt to honor the Wheel through the year. Eskel made a modicum of effort, Vesemir only really celebrated the solstices and equinoxes, Geralt swung wildly between not giving a shit and getting extremely involved through some sort of misplaced guilt about not attending to his druidic heritage, and Jaskier and Yennefer both sort of went along for the ride (though Jaskier particularly celebrated Belleteyn with great enthusiasm). Lambert celebrated the Wheel when he remembered and was feeling sad, and celebrated lunarary rites with Coen’s family when invited. </p><p>Aiden, who’d bounced all over different homes, had never had a Yule. </p><p>So. Lambert was going to have to celebrate Yule this year. So be it. It was an excuse to give gifts anyway, and at least their family stayed relatively relaxed about the whole thing. </p><p>He put his foot down about a tree, though. Some people cut down trees to stick in their homes and decorate, but he was not going to be one of them. Aiden had protested ferociously until he found out that the family tradition was to instead make pine bough wreathes to burn in the fires for the New Year, which he was immediately on board with. </p><p>Lambert spent a decent amount of time hunting for gifts, along with Aiden, and by the time the week of Yule arrived they were good to go.</p><p>The eve of Yule Lambert found himself working on the frankly disgusting amount of spiced dessert breads that his family demanded of him every year early in the morning. Aiden stumbled out of his room around 10 in his dance gear and spent about an hour doing stretches, dances, more stretches, and furious video watching as he worked on some sort of routine for his students final performance the next semester, which he was already choreographing. A storm had blown through the night before, leaving the already snowy world refreshed with clean white drifts that he was relieved he didn’t have to be out in. Kaedweni winters were brutal at the base of the mountains, never mind the real crags. </p><p>Lambert’s phone buzzed about the time that the first breads were headed into the oven, and he snagged it as he walked around to sit at the kitchen table for a minute. </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
thank fuck she made it this year i was losing my mind<br/>
[Image attached: Triss in a long, warm green dress, her brown hair in protective braids, hugging a very excited Deidre at the airport]<br/>
It was worth getting up early</p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
where was she again this year??? </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
Research position with the Temerian gov<br/>
she’s going to be here until late February, that’s when they start back up<br/>
i missed her so bad holy shit </p><p>“You get to meet Triss,” Lambert called as Aiden slowly lowered himself into a split on a yoga mat. “Looks like she’s here until February, she just flew in this morning.” </p><p>“Eskel’s platonic partner?” Aiden called back, bending forward to gracefully stretch out something, presumably. “The one who’s gone a lot?” </p><p>“Yeah, she’s a sorceress, does medical research with Chaos,” Lambert said, watching him with no small amount of lust. Damn, that was impressive to watch. Aiden caught him looking and gave him a very smug smile before deliberately stretching in an even more ridiculous way. “She goes all around the Continent. She’s not quite as much of a powerhouse as Yennefer is so she mostly flies, unless it’s an emergency. I mean, she’s strong, but she saves her energy for bigger shit than portalling to Toussaint for pedicures.” </p><p>“I’m still mad you didn’t take me and Jaskier,” Aiden muttered. </p><p>“Hey, I <em>earned</em> my pedicure privileges.” </p><p>Aiden snorted, and Lambert went back to his work. </p><p>The day passed quietly. Lambert got his breads finished and Aiden returned from an excursion with wrapping paper for the gifts they’d acquired for everyone and they sat down to get everything wrapped. Vesemir was getting yet another pair of slipper shoes, these ones an eye watering pink that he would undoubtedly complain about and wear religiously until they fell to pieces with a nice fur trim. Ciri was getting a small herd of wooden horses and a massive bag of colorful wooden blocks made from offcuts that Aiden had begged off of the carpenters of the stage crew and safely stained, Lambert having carved the horses. Eskel was getting a very expensive wheel of cheese that Lambert had to special order, Triss an ancient medical textbook from the late 1600’s that proclaimed to have copied over texts from the 1200’s, Jaskier a small zither that was in shockingly good condition to add to his collection of old musical instruments. Yennefer was getting a jar of Lambert’s most ferociously sought after pickles from three years back, one of the last jars, because she appreciated a good pickle properly. Geralt was getting Lambert’s physical labor in the stables, something he’d appreciate much more than any object. Deidre was getting a book with star charts and the stories about the constellations so she could start learning astronomy, which would go very nicely with the telescope that Jaskier, Geralt, and Yennefer were getting her. Aiden had added in a fantasy series he had loved around her age, a few books about a girl who adventured with her wolf, which was just extremely sweet. Coen and Shani were getting a nice new stainless steel set of pots and pans, since the set they had was a disaster. </p><p>Night was falling quickly, and Lambert was just finishing up washing their early dinner dishes when his phone started buzzing. Aiden was in the middle of some ballroom practice, and quickly brought it over to him. The caller ID showed Eskel.</p><p>Lambert blinked, surprised, and picked up the phone. “Hey.” </p><p>“Lambert,” Eskel said, his voice tight, “Deidre’s missing.”</p><p>For one brief, horrific moment Lambert felt the world drop away from under him. He grabbed the edge of the counter, knuckles groaning at the strength of his grip. All the nightmares Deidre had survived flashed before his eyes, her desperate flight from Caingorn with Eskel not far enough away to leave him anything but full of deep dread, and the horror of what would await her if she returned had his stomach turning. Surely they wouldn’t be so bold, to take her from her house?</p><p>“The Ademeyn’s-” he started, but Eskel was already speaking. </p><p>“No, not them, we’re sure of it. We argued, she wanted to go out to see Renfri before she left for the formal ceremonies in Creyden today, but we didn’t know when they were leaving and I didn’t want to intrude on them. She went to her room upset, but I didn’t think anything of it. Triss and I went to deal with the goats and when I came back she was gone.” Eskel’s voice was shaking, but he got it all out. “I don’t know where she’s gone and her phone must be dead, it’s going straight to voicemail.”</p><p>“Shit,” Lambert breathed, torn between relief and terror. He pulled the phone away to turn to Aiden, who was watching with concern. “Aiden, Deidre’s missing, grab your coat.” </p><p>Aiden ran for his bedroom and Lambert hurried to his own, shoving his feet into his snow boots and grabbing his coat and keys. “Any idea where she would have gone?” </p><p>“She must have taken the bus,” Eskel said as Lambert hurried back to the main room. “There’s the stop nearby, but they stop running early on the eve of the Solstice. She could be anywhere in the city-” </p><p>The doorbell rang, making Lambert jump. “Hold on, I have to get this.” </p><p>He flung open the door, and Deidre looked up at him, face soaked in tears and D’yaebl leaning into her legs. She was shivering and shaking, dressed in her blue puffer coat and a massive knit beanie with a bobble, her pants soaked from the snow and her boots coated in it.</p><p>“Oh, thank fuck,” he said, and Deidre ran forward to hug him tight. He hugged her back, both of them shaking as he fumbled the phone back to his ear. “Eskel, she’s here, I’ve got her. I’ll see what’s going on and call you back, come sit in the parking lot until we know what needs to happen.” </p><p>The desperate noise of relief that came out of Eskel was a sound that Lambert never wanted to hear again, and Triss took the phone to say, “We’ll be on our way in just a moment.” </p><p>The line went dead and Lambert tossed his phone on the couch as Aiden came running from the bedroom, coat half on.</p><p>“Deidre, darling,” he said with relief, and Deidre peeled off of Lambert to attach herself to Aiden. Aiden clung to her, cradling her head as she sobbed into his shirt. “I’ve got you, we’ve got you. You’re safe, it’s going to be okay, we’re right here sweetheart.” </p><p>Deidre sank to the floor and Lambert and Aiden went with her, Lamber wrapping his arms around both of them as his heart hammered in his chest. It took a long time but Deidre finally stopped crying and pulled back a little bit, wiping off her face. </p><p>“Sorry,” she mumbled, and Lambert’s heart broke a little. “Sorry.” </p><p>“Nothing to be sorry about when it comes to crying, sweetheart,” Aiden reassured her, gently stroking her hair. “Can you tell us what happened?” </p><p>Deidre nodded, then said, “Can… Do you have anything I could wear? I’m all soaked.” </p><p>“I have a skirt that might work, is that okay?” Lambert asked, and she nodded. “Let’s get you warmed up and then you can tell us.” </p><p>Aiden found her some of his nice leg warmers, Lambert got out a skirt along with a belt to hold it up. He quickly punched a few more holes in the leather to make it fit properly, and once they’d got her coat hung up and boots set aside by the door, pants and wet socks thrown in the dryer, Deidre huddled on the couch in a blanket and they sat next to her as D’yaebl shoved his head in her lap. </p><p>“I…” She took a deep breath and said hotly, “Renfri’s father is an <em>ass</em>.” </p><p>“Language,” Lambert said, startled into laughing, and kissed the top of her head. She wrinkled her nose but gave him a ghost of a smile.</p><p>“He is! He was going to leave her, and I wanted to go get her and have her come for Yule, but then he decided she was going to go and I wanted to say goodbye. And she wasn’t that far away, but Eskel didn’t want to go interrupt or whatever, and I was mad. And then- then I thought about the busses, because Renfri told me she busses to her school most of the time. So there had to be a stop by her house, and I thought that would be nice to surprise her since there was still time. So I waited until Eskel and Triss went out and then I just went down and…” Her voice wobbled again. “I got on the bus. And I didn’t really. I didn’t think about there being other people. But there were. And that was scary. And I got really scared, but I got to the transit center and then they said the buses weren’t running anymore, and it was dark, and there were so many people and then my phone died and it was so cold and snowy and I-I-I was scared, but you told me your house was near the transit center so I wandered around in the dark with D’yaebl until I found houses that looked like the picture Eskel showed me, and then I saw Aiden dancing and I knew I was in the right place.” </p><p>Aiden’s hand found Lambert’s to squeeze, and Lambert took a deep, shaking breath of relief as he bundled Deidre in under his free arm. </p><p>“Thank fuck you did,” he said, kissing the top of her head again. She nodded, curling up into him as she started to sniffle again. </p><p>“I don’t want to go home,” she said, choked up. “I know Eskel’s not going to be mad, but I know i scared him and did something so stupid and before, people...” </p><p>“I understand,” Lambert said, heart aching. “You can stay with us, we have plenty of space. What do you need?”</p><p>“I want Eskel here,” she said, blinking back tears. “And Triss. And Papa Ves. And Yenn. And everyone. I want everyone here.” </p><p>“Okay,” Lambert said, without question. “We can do that.” </p><p>She looked up at him, eyes watery as a tear escaped. “We can?” </p><p>“We can,” he promised. “Triss and Eskel are waiting in the parking lot, and I’ll call the others. Aiden, can you go find her a charger for her phone?” </p><p>Aiden nodded and hopped up. “Oh! I can show you my bedroom, I have an extra charger in there. I finally got a desk the other day!” </p><p>Deidre nodded and went with him with a shaky smile, and Lambert grabbed his coat and shoes to go down to the parking lot. Eskel’s truck was idling in the parking lot, and cut off when Eskel and Triss saw him coming. Beann’shie was in the back, whining softly.</p><p>“She’s okay,” he said as soon as Eskel rolled down the window, and both he and Triss slumped in relief. Eskel looked absolutely wrecked. “She wants to stay here tonight, but she wants everyone to stay here too. She’s pretty shaken up but she’s okay.” </p><p>“Thank fuck,” Eskel breathed, burying his face in his hands. “<em>Fuck</em>. If I never have to be afraid for her like that again it’ll be too soon. Triss, can you-” </p><p>“I’ll portal,” she said. “I’m not driving this back, I love myself too much for that. I’ll get some bags packed and… well, we might as well get the presents too, I suppose, I think we might be here a while.” </p><p>Eskel nodded, and Lambert led them up the stairs into the apartment. Deidre was back on the couch and froze when they came in, eyes frantically searching Eskel’s face. Eskel just sighed in relief, sitting down hard on the couch, and Beann’shie darted through the door to come lick her face. Deidre relaxed immediately. Triss gave Deidre a little smile, reassuring, and Deidre scrambled up to go hug Eskel. Eskel hugged her tight, breathing slow and careful. </p><p>“Sorry,” Deidre whispered, clinging to him. “I’m sorry, I was so <em>stupid</em>, I won’t ever do that again.”</p><p>“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Eskel said, gently cradling her. “We can talk about it some other time. I messed up today too. We’ll work on it, I promise.” </p><p>Lambert slipped away to the bedroom, where Aiden was waiting. </p><p>“Where are we going to put everyone?” Aiden asked, keeping his voice low. </p><p>“Me and you can sleep in my nest in the closet, Geralt, Yenn, and Jaskier can take my bed and they’ll bring the crib for Ciri, Vesemir in the guest bedroom, and Triss and Eskel can sleep on the couch or the chaise,” Lambert said quietly, running through logistics in his head. “Deidre can take your room, she’ll be more comfortable with your things around her, and she’s got to have a locking door.” </p><p>Aiden looked at him askance. “Triss and Eskel won’t fit on the couch.” </p><p>“Triss sleeps on top of him like a blanket when she’s home,” Lambert explained. “When they first lived together for a while they managed to fit on a twin. They’ll be happy on the couch with how wide it is.” </p><p>Aiden nodded, looking over to Deidre from the doorway. “I guess we’ll have a full house for the Solstice. They might as well stay here through the vigil, right?” </p><p>Lambert blinked. “Oh. Shit. I didn’t even think about that. I’ll tell Vesemir to bring enough food for everyone and I’ll get Geralt and his mess to bring all the pine boughs so we can make the wreathes tomorrow.” </p><p>“I still wish we could have a tree.” </p><p>“We’re not getting a tree just to put boxes under it, I am putting my foot down about this. We can have all the runic charms you want, no trees. Trees do not belong in houses.” </p><p>Aiden raised an arch eyebrow at him. “Miniature forests in aquariums are very popular.” </p><p>Lambert flipped him off with a dazzling smile, and Aiden snickered. “Fuck off. I will permit one miniature standing stone statue with a candleholder in the middle, and that is the extent of my Yule spirit.” </p><p>“It’s cute when you lie like that, your ears go red,” Aiden said, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll go get hot chocolate started.” </p><p>Lambert watched him go with no small amount of wistful longing, and groaned a little before calling Vesemir to relay his message. Sleeping with Aiden tonight was going to be dangerous, but Aiden had gone out with friends the other night and gotten spectacularly laid, reportedly, so Lambert should be the only problem, really.  There wasn’t really anything <em>stopping</em> him, just a sort of nagging feeling that he wasn’t really ready. And he’d learned to listen to that, so he was just waiting with questionable amounts of patience to see how things would sort out. </p><p>Vesemir was on his way almost as soon as Lambert explained things, and a call to Yennefer had the other household moving fast. Triss vanished through a portal to go get clothes and the presents, and Lambert got to work getting things ready for surprise guests. </p><p>Vesemir arrived with a massive crate full of gifts wrapped in fabric wrappers, wheeling a suitcase and his gear trunk behind him, then a massive pile of groceries, including an entire honeyed ham. The gear and suitcase went to the bedroom, Lambert’s winter Bear coat brought out for him to hang up since he’d forgotten it when last at the house and the gifts to a growing pile by the snake plant (Lambert didn’t roll his eyes at Aiden’s pointed look but it was a close call). Triss returned with a bag for her and Deidre, Eskel’s portion of the gifts, and Eskel’s trunk. And then Jaskier burst through the door and chaos descended. The gifts grew even higher proportions as Jaskier deposited his bundle. Geralt came through with about four suitcases and Ciri strapped to his chest, looking very tired, and Yennefer came in with an enormous bundle of pine boughs.</p><p>“Lambert, you’re lucky we got extra,” Yennefer said, but she didn’t sound mad. “Deidre, darling, come here and take these from me?” </p><p>Deidre gathered the soft boughs, which were almost as tall as she was, and carried them along with her to pile on the kitchen table. The dogs both trailed behind her, tails wagging.</p><p>“We have got to get a bigger table,” Lambert muttered, and hugged his sister-not-in-law. “Thanks, Yenn.” </p><p>“Not an issue,” she said, hugging him back before going over to hug Triss. </p><p>The evening passed quietly, Deidre going to bed early with D’yaebl and Beann’shie to guard her, and everyone else talked quietly until they too gravitated to their places throughout the apartment. Lambert and Aiden bedded down in the closet, Aiden’s first time being allowed in. Lambert bundled them down into the pile of pillows and blankets, and Aiden sighed quietly against his skin. </p><p>“You okay?” </p><p>Aiden hummed a little, quiet. “I suppose. I don’t know, it’s just… weird. Your family is so quiet.” </p><p>Lambert stared at him. “What?” </p><p>“No one yells,” Aiden explained, his voice small. “No one’s ever really angry, that I’ve seen. If something’s upsetting you just… deal with it. Even if it’s something small. Nothing gets left to fester. You’re not expected to just understand, everything is very clearly stated. There’s no…”</p><p>He broke off, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Lambert waited, quiet. </p><p>“There’s no invisible rules,” Aiden finished. “No one expects me to just <em>know</em> things, they tell me. And I love my brothers, I do, but we’re not… we’re not healthy, like this. I know I don’t really talk about them. They care for me, they really do, they sacrificed so much for me to get where I am, but when we lived together we were all so hurt and angry and we suffered for it. Stygga didn’t have any real adult supervision. There was a man who ran it and made sure we had the minimum of what we needed, but that was it. We were left alone. We were last chance kids and we knew it.” </p><p>Lambert found his hand to hold it, and Aiden sighed, squeezing back. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Lambert said, quiet. “That you dealt with that. It’s a lot, I know.” </p><p>“It is, but it’s… easier, with you,” he said, turning his head enough to flash Lambert a smile. “It’s different, and now, but a good kind of new. And we’re not so much like that any more, you know. We grew up.” </p><p>“Good,” Lambert said, and kissed him gently. </p><p>They fell asleep in the nest, the light glowing softly around them.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>The morning of the Solstice was greeted with Vesemir and Lambert trying to kill each other over a banana.<p>There was a reason the two of them had been thrilled when Lambert was of the age to move out, and a decent portion of that was that they were both just a bit too similar in territorial aggression when it came to mornings. </p><p>“Give me the fucking banana, I saw it <em>first</em>-”</p><p>“You did <em>not</em>-” </p><p>Geralt, who had had plenty of experience keeping the two of them from murdering each other when he moved back home during his existential crisis phase, neatly intercepted the issue and dragged the two apart, taking two other bananas from the bunch and stealing the first for himself. Lambert and Vesemir both growled about it, but were quickly distracted by Ciri (Lambert) and the promise of coffee (Vesemir). Aside from the small morning brawl, things settled down quickly. </p><p>The actual Yule day was mostly spent with everyone sleeping, eating, and having a quiet time together. Yule day in Kaedwen was family time and quiet, with few people out of their homes. Napping in the light of the sun was a particularly favorite tradition. Once night fell the all night vigil through the longest night of the year would begin, with gifts exchanged after dark and the pine wreathes made through the dark while people told stories, often by candlelight. Lambert, who had little patience for wax marks on his furniture, had invested in electric candles for this purpose. </p><p>Aiden was fascinated and sleepy by turns with the calm and quiet that fell in the house, and Lambert came out to find him half asleep on the couch with Ciri in his lap, Vesemir quietly reading aloud from a book to them and a yawning Deidre, who had Beann’shie on the couch next to her and D’yaebl below. Jaskier made it clear that if anyone woke him or Yenn up before they were ready, there would be a murder done, so he and Yenn spent most of the day curled up asleep in Lambert’s bed utterly dead to the world while Geralt, Triss, and Eskel sat out in the cold on the balcony soaking up the sun and snoring uproariously with a fire going to keep them warm. Lambert, for his part, got set making dinner.</p><p>This was the thing he liked about Yule. Celebrations were quiet in their family, the loudness and commercial aspects thrown away. It was just his people having a nice day together and relaxing. He spent his time cooking, shooing people out of the kitchen when they came hunting for food and directing them pointedly to the snacks and leftovers in the fridge. The ham, potatoes, various vegetables, heavy gravy, venison steaks, and absolutely fucking decadent chocolate cake he made were spelled to stay perfect until it was time to eat, and he went to drag some pillows and blankets into a sunny patch over by the couch. </p><p>Jaskier and Yenn stumbled out once he started moving things, and Eskel, Geralt, and Triss came in to join him as Aiden hopped down into the pile of cozy things. No one said anything as they bundled into their nest, though Vesemir chuckled a little and picked up a new book. </p><p>“Once, long ago,” Vesemir began, tucking Deidre’s head under his chin as Lambert settled down and let Eskel’s weight blanket him, Geralt’s furnace of a torso his pillow, “there came to Toussaint a Witcher in search of coin, of the Griffin school, and he went to a noble house to seek work and heard of a woman trapped in a tower, with three wyverns stalking around it to keep her from escaping…” </p><p>The story was old and familiar, and Lambert felt his eyes starting to close. Aiden curled into him, head tucked into the curve of Lambert’s chest, and he could feel Jaskier and Yennefer settling on Geralt’s other side, Triss curling up against Eskel. Ciri was dozing against her grandfather, tucked in the crook of his arm. They were all there, safe and warm, all together and home.</p><p>When they all woke up they were incredibly disoriented and warm, and night was beginning to fall. Coen and Shani arrived right in time as the sun went down, and Coen swept Lambert into a bear hug to make him complain and laugh before going to exchange fist bumps with Deidre. Deidre had met him the first year she was with the family, and liked him a lot. This year she was excited to talk to him out loud, and Coen’s delight at hearing her voice was frankly adorable. </p><p>The gift exchange got well under way, and with Ciri getting her blocks and horses first. Geralt immediately teared up when he saw they had blazes like the Roaches did, and his partners both rolled their eyes as Ciri shrieked in glee. Deidre’s astronomy book and telescope were a major hit, Shani and Coen both nearly cried with joy over the pan set, and Eskel had to fight off Triss from his cheese wheel until she got her book. The fuzzy slippers immediately found Vesemir’s feet, Jaskier’s zither and Yennefer’s pickles equally a delight. </p><p>Other gifts went back and forth, and Aiden looked a bit overwhelmed as he wound up with a stack of gifts too. Eskel and Triss had collaborated to make him an incredibly cozy oversized sweater in deep burgundy, which he immediately put on. Deidre had brought him the physical disc copies of the Catrine series, and a dark green beanie that he immediately put on as well. Jaskier gave him a massive book of the history of dance on the Continent, Yennefer gave him some extremely expensive sandalwood cologne (and shot a smug look at Lambert while she did it, the asshole), and Geralt gave him a key. </p><p>Aiden looked at it, puzzled, and looked up at Geralt as Jaskier exclaimed over the new conductors baton Eskel had turned for him. “What’s this to?” </p><p>“The stables,” Geralt said, smiling a little as Aiden’s eyes went wide. “You can come and go as you please. I’ll make time for lessons.” </p><p>“Geralt, were I not a happily married man, I would kiss you,” Aiden said, thrilled. “And you may live to regret this.” </p><p>“Free labor is never regretted,” Geralt said placidly, and Lambert snickered at the look on Aiden’s face. He passed over a box to Lambert, who opened it to find a very handsome knife with an antler handle and watered steel blade meant for hunting. </p><p>He whistled, eyes wide. “Do I want to know how much you spent on this?” </p><p>“It’s a gift from all three of us, so no, you do not,” Geralt said dryly. </p><p>Eskel gave him a whole new set of sword oils, enough to likely replenish him all the way through the summer, and Vesemir gave him a new black skirt with slits up the sides that he immediately went to put on. Coen and Shani, having his number, bought two bottles of the expensive absinthe he liked, along with two highly stylized drippers. He took them with relish, delighted. Deidre’s gift to him was a very feminine sheer floral top, which matched the dress perfectly when put over a black tank that he grabbed from his closet. </p><p>The other presents were exchanged, Yennefer absolutely not crying but definitely looking like she was thinking about it when she got a sweater from Triss, and Vesemir absolutely crying when he got a picture frame that Deidre had made with Eskel’s help and carved little swords and books onto. Eskel got Jaskier an incredibly tacky orange mug with “worlds okayest in-law” on it, which had Jaskier crying through laughter. </p><p>There were a few boxes left, all of them large and mostly flat, and Lambert picked up the one to find it was for Deidre, from Vesemir. He handed it over, and Vesemir held up a hand. </p><p>“She should open it when Aiden opens his.” </p><p>Aiden picked up the other box, delighted. “Oh! This one’s for me?” </p><p>“Has your name on it,” Lambert agreed. </p><p>The two quickly untied the wrapping, revealing thick cardboard boxes, and pulled them open. Aiden gasped out loud, eyes going wide. His hands were shaking a little as he reached in and gently took the coat from inside the box. Deidre was pulling her own out, her eyes just as wide. The leather was black, the quilting a deep indigo blue for Aiden and forest green for Deidre. They were Bear gear coats of the Superior class, with long quilting for winter and matched pauldrons to go on the shoulders over the long sleeves. There were also black leather gloves with fur trim and wool lining to complete the look.</p><p>“I hope you like the colors,” Vesemir said. "I thought they'd look nice." </p><p>Aiden hugged the coat to his chest, choking on his words as Deidre scrambled up to hug Vesemir tight. It was an extraordinarily expensive gift, and Lambert gaped at Vesemir as Aiden looked up at him and finally managed to croak out a watery thanks. </p><p>The pair tried their new coats on to find they fit perfectly, and Aiden beamed before hurrying into his bedroom and coming back with a small box. </p><p>"Here," he said, shoving it at Lambert. "For you. I forgot to grab it for the pile." </p><p>It was small, mostly square and slim. Lambert pulled off the paper to reveal a jewelry case, and he slowly opened it. </p><p>The necklace within was paired with earrings. The chain was just slightly too thick to be called delicate, and from it hung a small, handsome emerald set into a diamond shaped backing, all of it silver. The earrings were skulls with emeralds inset in the eye sockets. The emeralds were a perfect match to his gown, and the slight flaw in the center showed the stone to be genuine, the name embossed on the interior equally impressive.</p><p>Triss, Yennefer, Deidre, and Jaskier all cooed as he carefully lifted it out. </p><p>"Ohhh, that is beautiful," Triss breathed. "Aiden, you have exquisite taste."</p><p>Aiden gently took it from him and released the clasp, looping it around his neck and fastening it. There was a collective sign, and Geralt smiled, looking very soft. </p><p>"There you are again," Geralt said fondly, and Lambert blinked hard a few times as he reached up to touch the stone. It came to rest perfectly just below the dip of his collarbone. </p><p>He looked up at Aiden, who gave him a little smile. He knew Aiden was thinking of that conversation over the bed, his mother without jewelry and trapped. Aiden met his eyes and shrugged, very slightly. </p><p>"Thank you," Lambert said with deep feeling, and meant it. Aiden sat down next to him, and Lambert pulled over the last box. It was about lap sized, only a few inches tall. "Here's mine, to you." </p><p>Aiden opened it and blinked when he found a rather nice looking binder inside. He pulled it out, flipping it open, and froze. </p><p>The first picture on the page was the first one taken of them together at the screenings, Aiden eagerly leaning in and Lambert listening intently. With shaking hands Aiden turned the pages, revealing more and more photos of them together, and some older ones from earlier in college. </p><p>“I uh,” Lambert started, as another awwww ran around the room. “I though you could add to it, but I got what pictures of us we had and got them printed. I talked to some of your friends who had pictures of you from parties, all of that. I thought you could add to them-"</p><p>Aiden dropped the book on his lap and flung his arms around Lambert’s neck, dragging him down to kiss him firmly before hugging him even tighter. There was a loud coo from around the room, and Lambert buried his face against Aiden’s neck with a smile. </p><p>Success. </p><p>Yennefer took one look at the kitchen table and just summoned one instead, a massive long thing with bench seats. The table suited them all nicely, and Lambert fetched out the good glasses and poured the good wine he’d been saving for the New Year anyway. The food was fantastic, and he glowed in response to the praise heaped on him for it. It was midnight before they finished eating, and Ciri was fast asleep by then, settled in her crib and making sleepy baby noises. Deidre was determined to stay up til dawn, though she was flagging, and they all settled on the chaise and couch to talk and tell stories once the lights were off and the electric candles settled on the coffee table. </p><p>Jaskier pulled out his lute about then, tuning it as they all settled down to work on making their wreathes from the boughs and the trims that Yennefer had brought. </p><p>“Songs, to pair with it?” he asked, smiling at the dark. </p><p>“Oh, let’s,” Triss said happily, curled up with her feet tucked up into her skirts. “You and Yenn blend so lovely.” </p><p>“We <em>do</em>, don’t we,” Jaskier grinned, and started a quick, light strumming pattern that had Geralt smiling and closing his eyes. “Let’s start with a classic though.” He cut the strum and started, his voice warm and clear. “<em>I was following the I, was following the I, was following the I, was following the I, was following the-</em>”</p><p>Geralt came in first, bass rumble to Jaskier’s clear tenor, Yennefer following on the next entry, Lambert joining in with Vesemir and the others. Aiden knew the song, and his voice was warm and strong, and best of all, in tune. The White Winter Hymnal was a newer song, only a few hundred years old, and common for Yule. </p><p>They sang for a time as they worked, then offered up stories of the past year to recount their most important adventure once they finished the wreathes. Deidre stumbled off to sleep then, pleased to have made it that long. Lambert and Aiden re-told their meeting, marriage, and decision to marry to much laughter, Eskel told of getting Deidre, Vesemir told of a solitary fight against a griffin, Jaskier gave them all a very humorous story about a particular student was a nightmare to deal with in class, and Geralt talked about his struggles to be patient with Renfri’s family. Coen talked about the loss of a close aunt, Shani about the pain of losing her first patient in the ER. Triss talked about the struggles of Princess Adda, whose illness was still leaving her sick most of the time and who Triss had befriended. It was quite early in the morning by then, and Jaskier took to plucking a song as they all sat together in comfortable, companionable silence. </p><p>“Ah, I know this one,” Aiden murmured, and Jaskier turned to him, nodding. Aiden sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “<em>When I first saw you, the end was soon… to Posada, it slouched and then, it must’ve caught a good look at you…</em> </p><p>His voice was untrained but beautiful, rising and falling with the song. Triss came in at the second voice, her voice mixing smoothly with his as she sang, “<em>If I was born, as a blackthorn tree… I’d wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies…</em>"</p><p>The faintly haunting melody was sweet and rich. Jaskier played until it was time to leave, and they all went to change. Lambert pulled on his leathers and armor, looping the chain of his medallion around his neck. He pulled the Bear coat out of the closet, strapping it shut and adding the armor on top before strapping on his swords and returning to the main room.</p><p>Aiden was dressed in his new coat and had his dark green beanie on, his long gloves vanishing into the coat. He looked kitted out like a proper hunter, and smiled brightly as he turned. “Do I look good?” </p><p>“You always look good,” Lambert said simply, and Aiden flustered immediately. </p><p>“You’re the worst!”</p><p>“Yeah,” he agreed easily, “and you married me, so what’s that say about your taste?”</p><p>Aiden stuck his tongue out at him, making Lambert grin, and Vesemir came in in his thick gambeson and a warm cloak, swords at his hips and a battered pair of swords in scabbards in his arms. </p><p>“These are for you to wear,” Vesemir said to Aiden, as Yennefer and Triss came out bundled in warm clothes, belts with daggers belted on, and Jaskier came out in another Bear coat, this one brilliant cyan. </p><p>“What, really?” Aiden said, surprised.</p><p>“Just for tonight,” Vesemir said, helping him buckle the straps down. “You’ll earn your own someday, but for now these will do.” </p><p>“Do I need them?” Aiden said uncertainly. </p><p>“We’re going deep enough within the Preserve that all adults must carry steel and silver,” Vesemir explained. “When Deidre is 14, she’ll be required to do the same.”</p><p>Triss and Yennefer both showed off the silver and steel daggers at their belts, and Jaskier pulled his pair out of seemingly nowhere before slipping them back into his coat. </p><p>Eskel and Geralt came out in their winter gear and Aiden choked, staring at them. Lambert rolled his eyes, but even he could admit that they were quite the pair in their gear. Geralt’s fitted dark Viper gear was about as dramatic as it got, especially with a massive black cloak over it, and Eskel’s spikes and red and black stripes were plenty fucking punk. Compared to Vesemir’s comfortable quilted gambeson they were practically supermodels. </p><p>Geralt was carrying a thoroughly bundled Ciri, and the image of Geralt with his hair back and his sturdy armor paired with a tiny bundle of pink with a bobble hat was painfully cute. Jaskier already had his phone out snapping pictures, which Geralt indulged until Deidre stumbled out in her new coat, Beann’shie alert and harnessed. </p><p>“S’time?” </p><p>“It’s time, baby,” Triss said fondly. “Grab your wreath, and Yennefer will send us there.” </p><p>Wreathes gathered, Yennefer opened a portal in the middle of Lambert’s living room. Aiden was tense as they walked through into the dark, bitter cold of winter, and jolted as they landed in what was a parking lot in the summer, currently a cleared patch mostly free of snow. A trio of snowmobiles were parked like cars along a fence line, and a break in the fence showed the cleared path leading up to a small knoll where the standing stones loomed.</p><p>The standing stones were at the base of the mountains, just deep enough within the Preserve, but not so deep as to be completely inaccessible by the winter snows. The snows were cleared from the center of the stones and a bonfire blazed at the heart, three people in armor standing around it.</p><p>“Who are they?” Aiden whispered. </p><p>“The Compass Vigil,” Lambert explained. “One for each point. Vesemir’s the last. West comes as soon as night falls. North and South come when the middle point of the night is reached. East comes last, with the sun.” </p><p>Aiden caught his breath, grabbing Lambert’s hand as they walked up the path once everyone came through. Lambert took a moment to actually look at the scene, and could see it as if for the first time. It was a different kind of magic, seeing the stones as they would have been in the far back ages, with cloaked figures keeping vigil in the sacred stones. The clothes didn’t have an ounce of modernity, and as he watched Vesemir stride forward to add himself to the number at the point of the East, the last part of the compass, his heart swelled. Berella, her cloak hood down to show her long hair at the North smiled at them as they reached the circle, Mattias of the South point bowing his head slightly.</p><p>They all stepped into the circle and one of the fire tenders came around with a bowl of gold flakes in oil. It was Rennes, the head of the Preserve management, dressed in his full gear and with a massive cloak on. He dipped a finger in the golden oil and smeared it in a circle to denote the Wheel over Vesemir’s forehead, then Eskel and Geralt, and so on down the line. Deidre’s eyes were wide as Ciri’s. Ciri herself was being very quiet in the midst of all this strangeness, safe in Jaskier’s arms. Rennes smiled at Aiden as he daubed Lambert’s head, and then did Aiden’s. This done, he returned to his position at the West point of the fire, the bowl set down beside him. Other cloaked figures came up the path, some riding in on snow mobiles, others skiing up, one on a horse, and still others portalling in. Lambert nodded greetings as the others who worked the Preserve joined them and were anointed in their turn. All was silent in the rich blue not-light of predawn, and the wind tugged at their clothes. </p><p>Vesemir was the first to toss his wreathe to the fire as the light began to turn, and the others followed suit. Aiden hesitated a moment, but added his as well. Lambert tossed his onto the fire, watching the wreathe catch and add to the blaze. Aiden huddled close to him, the long Bear gear keeping the worst of the cold off, but it was still a bit chilly. Lambert wrapped an arm around him as Rennes started to speak. </p><p>“Offerings we give,” he said, his operatic bass rumbling around the assembled crew. Aiden shivered against Lambert, eyes wide in the dark. “For the land. For the sky. For the turn of the Wheel, inexorable, ever onward. Offerings we give for the health and prosperity of this land, and the memories of those once walked it and stand here to more. Offerings we give to those who lifted the stones. Offerings we give to the sun, the stars, the moon, and the land.”</p><p>“Wynter wakeneth al my care,” Vesemir’s soft voice said, the rumble rich as it echoed on the stones. The ancient Kaedweni dialect was by turns soft and guttural, and the words were hard to parse, but he leaned his head against Aiden’s as the fire spat spark skyward. The poem was old, incredibly so, but it had been spoken by a thousand and one tenders of the flames. “Nou this leves waxeth bare; ofte I sike ant mourne sare, when hit cometh in my thot, of this worldes joi, hou hit goth al to noht.” </p><p>Gethin joined in, their voices mingling in the cold winter air. “Nou hit is, and nou hit nys, Al so hit ner nere, ywys; That moni mon seith, soth hit ys; Al goth bote Erth wille; Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.” </p><p>Dragonfly and Rennes joined then, taking the final stanza with the four of them half singing, half speaking. “Al that gren me graueth grene, nou hit faleweth albydene: Wheel, help that hit be sene, ant shild us from darke! For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle.” </p><p>The sun broke over the mountains, spilling directly down through the stones to land and illuminate the fire. Aiden caught his breath, taking Lambert’s hand. Together they stood in the wind, the fire blazing, and watched the dawn rise over a new year. </p><p>The Wheel rolled on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Why yes my pagan ass did have a very good time imagining Yule on the continent thank you for asking</p><p>Also, if you're looking for the (dangerously affordable and lab made, not natural) necklace Aiden got for Lambert: https://www.etsy.com/listing/717913968/emerald-necklace-sterling-silver-emerald?ref=hp_rf-3&amp;pro=1&amp;frs=1</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Aiden gets sick, and Lambert is a good husband.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for mentioned discussed child abuse, medical anxiety, and accidentally getting high.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Only a few days after Yule, Aiden started to sniffle and cough. It was just in the mornings, and then in the later part of the day, and then he started coughing harder and harder. By the end of the week, Aiden was exhausted and coughing hard, and begging off of any social activities.</p><p>Things finally came to a head when Lambert got home from a quick grocery run to find his husband curled on the chaise lounge with a blanket over him, looking thoroughly miserable and coughing into an actual handkerchief. Lambert spared a moment to wonder where he'd even found it, before dismissing it as yet more theater major nonsense.</p><p>“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, putting the groceries on the kitchen counter.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Aiden mumbled, levering himself up and wobbling over to start putting things in the fridge. “It’s okay.” </p><p>“I really don’t think so,” Lambert said dryly. </p><p>“No, I’m good-” And then he started coughing again. </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said, watching him as he bent over nearly in half coughing. “We’re not going to keep doing this. You need to see a doctor.” </p><p>Aiden whined, deep in his throat, and held out a shaky hand to have Lambert help him back to the chaise. He looked particularly sad and pathetic, and Lambert draped a soft blanket over him and aggressively tucked it in. This somehow managed to make him look even smaller and more pathetic, which was doing terrible things to Lambert's heart. </p><p>“Can’t we just call Shani?” Aiden mumbled, sinking back into the chaise. “She’s nice. She’s a doctor. Or something like a doctor. She’s a doctor, right?” </p><p>“Shani’s on her way to being an ER surgeon,” Lambert clarified, heading to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. “Right now she’s an ER nurse working up some money.” He returned with the glass and made Aiden drink at least half of it. He took a moment to examine him a bit more as Aiden drank, and didn’t like what he saw. Aiden looked sallow and exhausted, and his limbs were trembling a little. “I’ll call the clinic to get you in tomorrow.” </p><p>“Okay,” Aiden said reluctantly, setting the glass down. He looked vaguely queasy. “I don’t… I really, really don’t like doctors offices. I’m going to be a mess, and I might cry. Just so you know.” </p><p>Lambert sat down on the chaise, offering his hand. Aiden took it, linking their fingers together. “You wanna tell me?” </p><p>Aiden shrugged, looking a little sad and uncomfortable. “The first foster family who had me, they were both doctors. They… they weren’t nice people. And Kiyan, my brother, he had some not great things happen and wouldn’t go near doctors. I had to get my shots and things, so I’d go in then when the people who ran Stygga made us, but I’ve just done my best to avoid them. I haven’t ever had a doctor be nice to me. Maybe because I was just a poor brat and I was a handful, but-” He was interrupted by a coughing fit, and turned his head to cough into his arm. His whole body shook with the force of it, and Lambert squeezed his hand. </p><p>“I’m not gonna pretend I know what that’s all like,” Lambert said, smoothing a thumb over Aiden’s knuckles, “but I’ll be right there if you want me to go in with you. I didn’t see a doctor until I was 9, because my piece of shit father wouldn’t let my mom take me in, so I’m not huge on them either. I made Vesemir or Eskel stay in the room with me every time I went in.”</p><p>“Not Geralt?” </p><p>Lambert snorted. “Geralt avoids doctors like the plague. When his hair started coming in white they did a lot of tests, and he was in the hospital a while to be sure he wasn’t dying. He didn’t want anything to do with them after that.” </p><p>Aiden held out his arms, letting go of his hand, and Lambert obediently shifted so he could lay down with his head on Aiden’s chest, arms wrapped around each other. It wasn’t as comforting as it usually was. He could hear the rattle of Aiden’s breathing, and he didn’t like it. </p><p>“Can you call for me?” Aiden asked, voice small. </p><p>“I will.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>It was a bit of a fight to get Aiden out of bed, dressed, and into the car the next morning, but Lambert grimly reminded himself as he drove that Aiden put up with all of his shit while sick, so this was fair play. It was also hard to feel frustrated when Aiden was so pale with nerves, huddled down in his coat with his eyes wide and clearly terrified.<p>Check in at the clinic was thankfully fast, and Lambert only had to help him with a few questions since Aiden was so unused to filling out the boxes and had no real idea of what some of the questions were even asking. Once that was done Aiden huddled down in his jacket with the hood up to act like blinders, hands shaking a little as he fussed with his keychain. Lambert stayed quiet and calm next to him, leaving a hand on his thigh to reassure him. Eventually he calmed a little, but he still jolted when a nurse called for him to come back. Aiden stood up on shaking legs, and didn’t move. </p><p>Lambert looked up, guessing the problem. “Want me in there with you?” </p><p>Aiden nodded, whey faced, and Lambert took his hand as he stood up and walked in. Aiden shied away from the nurse as she took his height and weight, hovering next to Lambert once he was let off of the scale. She led them into a room and Aiden gave him a pleading look, so Lambert stayed standing by him as his temperature and blood pressure were taken. The nurse gave him a reassuring smile, patting his arm, and asked for his symptoms. </p><p>Aiden stumbled out, “Cough, and, hurts..” </p><p>His voice failed abruptly, and Lambert slid over to his side so Aiden could take his hand. Aiden squeezed hard, looking at him with wide, scared eyes, and Lambert squeezed back before turning to the nurse. </p><p>“He’s had a progressively worse cough for the past few days with a lot of junk coming up, and his lungs and chest have been aching,” he said, rubbing his thumb over Aiden’s knuckles. “Bit feverish, too, really sluggish. And he’s bundling up in blankets all the time to try and stay warm.” </p><p>“Ooh, poor thing,” the nurse coos. “Sounds like pneumonia, but I’ll get the doctor in shortly to see what we can do.” </p><p>Aiden gave her a strained smile, and she bustled out the door. </p><p>Aiden immediately turned and buried his face against Lambert’s shoulder. “I haaate this.” </p><p>Lambert bent and kissed the top of his head. “I know. I’m right here, it’s going to be fine.” Aiden gave him a wobbly look of dismay, and Lambert smiled in reassurance, kissing his forehead in exchange. “It’ll be over quick. Worst that’s going to happen is you’ll have to take some nasty cough medicine and let me baby you for a week while you mostly stay in bed and recover.” </p><p>Aiden pouted, but seemed a little more settled. “At least I’ll be a better patient than you.” </p><p>“That’s not hard, Aiden.” </p><p>The doctor opened the door and Aiden sat up, immediately nervous again, so Lambert stayed at his side. She was a short, motherly looking woman, with short-cut gray curls and an easy smile on a face that looked so welcoming Lambert half expected her to pull a tea tray out of nowhere. “Ahh, hello dear. I’m Doctor VanValkenbug. Aiden Kett, I presume?” </p><p>Aiden nodded, and she set to work checking the inside of his throat, listening to his chest, and generally being motherly and calming while briskly doing her job. Slowly the tension started to bleed out of Aiden. When she sat down he was practically calm. Lambert could nearly feel his fingers again. </p><p>“Well, the good news is that it’s <em>not</em> pneumonia yet,” she said cheerily. “Just bronchitis, which still isn’t much fun but should be over fast if you spend a decent amount of time resting and let your body do its work. I’m giving you antibiotics too, so be sure to finish all of those, and judging by that cough, a pretty high strength cough medicine. Is it going to hurt you to be out of work for a bit?” </p><p>“I’m still a student,” Aiden said quietly, and she smiled at him. “On break.”</p><p>“Well then, no need to worry about it in the least. You must get as much rest as possible, though, and if you see your symptoms get worse come back immediately. Alright?” </p><p>“Alright,” Aiden said, and managed a little smile before breaking into another coughing fit. </p><p>Once they were home Lambert gently bullied Aiden into bed, and fetched him a ridiculous amount of orange juice in a thermos to keep it cold. He placed it firmly on the bedside table, stole Aiden’s phone to plug it in, and pushed Aiden back down as he tried to get back up.</p><p>Aiden looked up at him with peevish displeasure as Lambert firmly tucked the blankets around his shoulders. “M’fine,” he grumbled, sounding thoroughly stuffed up, and coughed again. </p><p>“Uh huh, I’m sure,” Lambert said dryly. “Drink your orange juice when you wake up. I’ll go pick up your meds.” </p><p>Aiden glared at him. “M’no gonna sleep.” </p><p>“You know, I can almost believe you believe that,” Lambert said, and left the room to go and grab one of their most important Kaedweni staples, the beloved and much abused heating bag. Lambert had ten of them in various patterns and shapes, but all they were was an enclosed fabric tube with uncooked rice or corn in them that was tossed in the microwave to heat and then placed on the afflicted body for soothing. He found the largest, a nice dark blue canvas stuffed with corn, tossed it in the microwave, and returned to find Aiden clearly fighting sleep. </p><p>He lifted the blankets and plopped the heated bag on Aiden’s sternum. Almost instantly the fight started to bleed out of his expression, and Lambert tucked the blankets back in as Aiden’s eyes fluttered closed. </p><p>“Mmm,” Aiden offered, sounding a little dazed. </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert agreed, amused, and sat on the bed to stroke his hair until Aiden started to very faintly snore. Success! </p><p>It didn’t take too terribly long to get to the pharmacy and apothecary to pick up the cough medicine and antibiotics, and Lambert picked up one of the little charms that Aiden thought were so adorable from the apothecary as well. They only had a small amount of healing magic jammed into them, but the little cat figure with bright green tassels would make him smile at least. It was meant to help stave off infection. </p><p>When he got home Aiden stumbled out of his bedroom, already coughing, and Lambert winced at the sound. </p><p>“Got your meds, and this,” he said, giving him the charm. Aiden immediately brightened. </p><p>“Awww, it’s cute! What’s this one do?” </p><p>“Fights infection, go put it in your room.” </p><p>Aiden immediately went and did so, and by the time he came back he was coughing hard again Lambert set out the bottle of cough medicine and its measuring cup on the counter.</p><p>“Hate this <em>fucking</em> cough,” Aiden muttered, and Lambert turned away to stick the heat bag back in the microwave to warm again. There was a faint clatter, and then Aiden went, “Oh. Oh, that was stupid… whoopsssss.” </p><p>Lambert turned back around to see Aiden guiltily looking at the bottle in his hand. Which was open. And which had clearly not been poured into the convenient measuring cup sitting innocently on the counter, bone dry. </p><p>“Oh, I can already feel it,” Aiden said, wincing. “I’m sorry. That was dumb.” </p><p>“Aiden,” Lambert said slowly. “Please tell me that you did not, in your impatience, just fucking drink that straight from the bottle without measuring.” </p><p>“But I don’t like lying to you,” Aiden said, blinking at him with wide eyes. “Oh wow, that’s… strong.”</p><p>“Uh oh,” Lambert said, looking back at Aiden, who was starting to sway. “Aiden? Aiden how fucking much did you have?” </p><p>Aiden smiled at him, dazed, and stumbled sideways. Cursing, Lambert barely managed to catch him before he fell over. He grabbed the bottle and looked at how much liquid was gone and did some quick math. It was a little over a double dose and it was heavy duty stuff. Fuck. Shit. He could never tell Coen about this, he’d never let him live it down. He should have just poured out the right amount instead of letting Aiden anywhere near this with as out of it as he was.</p><p>“Alright, into bed with you,” he said, hauling Aiden into the bedroom and plopping him onto the bed. </p><p>“Iiiii feel… really nice?” Aiden said, head lolling to the side. “Woooow, you’re <em>pretty</em>.” </p><p>Shit. His husband was now accidentally high on cough medicine, of all the stupid things to do. Lambert rubbed his forehead and quickly double checked online to see how much was dangerous, and relaxed when he realized that Aiden was still very much under the level. High as a kite, definitely, but safe. And he was now going to hide this shit and dole it out appropriately, dear fucking gods.</p><p>“You are such a disaster,” he sighed, and Aiden beamed at him. The microwave beeped out the alert for the heated bean bag, and Lambert went to grab it. When he came back, Aiden’s phone was buzzing, and Aiden was busy staring dreamily at the ceiling, so he tossed the bean bag on the bed and grabbed the phone. </p><p>The call was from Dasha ap Stygga, and Lambert swallowed hard and answered the phone. He knew that Aiden’s brothers didn’t call very often, so this was likely to be somewhat important. “Aiden’s phone.” </p><p>There was a faint pause and then a very, very frosty, “I’m sorry, who is this?” </p><p>Lambert grimaced. Not a great first impression. “Sorry, I’m Lambert, Aiden’s a bit indisposed.” </p><p>“Oh.” The frosty tone lowered by a factor of .2%, which was less than reassuring. “Where’s Aiden? What’s happened?” </p><p>“I can hand you to him but I can’t promise he’ll be very clear, he’s just had a lot of cough medicine and he’s a little high right now,” Lambert admitted. “He’s picked up bronchitis, I’m tending to him.” </p><p>There was another brief pause, and then Dasha said, sounding dangerously pleasant, “Put him on the line, please.” </p><p>“One moment,” Lambert said, feeling as if he had somehow just escaped being stabbed, and gave the phone to Aiden. Aiden smiled dreamily up at him as he put it to his ear, snuggling up against him. “It’s Dasha, Aiden.”</p><p>“Hiiiii mama Dasha,” he slurred, and pressed his face to Lambert’s thigh. “Hi! I love you.” </p><p>Lambert ruffled his hair and Aiden purred. </p><p>“Yeaaaah, I’m okay, I’m getting better! Lamb’s being very sweet. Because he’s sweet. And my chest doesn’t hurt so much ‘cause my med’cine.” Aiden rolled over onto his back and Lambert plopped the heat pack back on his chest again. “And I’m warm! I’m nice and warm. I wanna sleep, Dasha.” He nodded vaguely, blinking sleepily a few times already. “Yeah. I’ll pass you back! I love you.” </p><p>He handed the phone back to Lambert, closing his eyes. He was asleep by the time Lambert had the phone to his ear. </p><p>“Hello?” he said, a little wary.</p><p>“Lambert,” Dasha said, sounding dangerously pleasant again. “So nice to meet you.” </p><p>“Pleasure’s mine,” Lambert said, feeling a bit sweaty.</p><p>“Mmm, it certainly is. So, would you care to tell me how exactly my darling baby brother, who is in the care of his presumably loving husband, has managed to come down with <em>fucking</em> bronchitis?” </p><p>Lambert had faced down a not inconsiderable number of monsters without breaking more than a sweat, but the sheer menace in Dasha’s voice had him sweating, his hair standing on end, and his brain scrambling to remember if he had updated his will to include Aiden. He swallowed hard and forced himself to try and calm down. “Honestly, we really don’t know what brought it on, he’s been inside most of the break. We went out to the standing stones for Yule, so he might have picked it up then, but we thought it was just a cold he was struggling with. Once he got worse I managed to get him to a doctor, but-” </p><p>“You got him to go to a doctor?” Dasha interrupted. </p><p>“Yeah, at the clinic my family went to. I made sure to go in with him so he wasn’t alone, I’m not that much of an asshole,” Lambert said, and immediately winced. </p><p>Dasha hummed, the sound still very menacing. “Very well. Update me with changes. If he gets worse, I’m coming to Kaedwen to deal with it.” </p><p>A shiver of dread ran down Lambert’s spine. “Of course,” he said weakly. “You’re welcome to our guest room.” </p><p>“Obviously,” Dasha said, with more disdain than Lambert had ever heard out loud. “And <em>don’t</em> let him eat on his own, he gets noodles everywhere if you don’t watch him. He gets clumsy. I expect to hear from you tomorrow. Good day.” </p><p>And then he hung up. </p><p>Lambert gingerly placed the phone back on the table as if it were a particularly volatile bomb, and stared at it. </p><p>“Aiden,” he said to his sleeping husband, “your family is a fucking nightmare.” </p><p>Aiden snored, uncaring. </p><p>Lambert sighed, and headed to the kitchen for lack of anything better to do. He worked on autopilot, pulling out pots and pans and letting his mind wander as he got everything together. He wasn’t stress cooking, except for the fact that he definitely was. He stared blankly at the simmering soup pot, looked back at the homemade noodles, and buried his face in his hands to scream for a moment. What was he <em>doing</em>? How had this happened? Aiden had all the palate refinement of a toddler, he wouldn’t care if Lambert bought canned soup and heated it. </p><p>But Lambert would care. </p><p>“Oh fuck, I’m in too deep, I’ve become my cover,” he muttered to himself, staring blankly at the noodles. “This is it. I really am married. I’m an adult with a husband and a job and a nice house and a goddamn sedan. All I need is 2.5 kids and a big fuzzy dog. I’m fucking <em>respectable</em>.” </p><p>The egg timer dinged cheerily, and Lambert put the noodles into the water in a daze. The noodles set to do their thing, he went to the bedroom to look in on Aiden. He was still asleep, snoring a little and obviously drooling. His hair was a mess, his curls sticking up in random places, and he was holding on tight to the pillow from Lambert’s bed. This, for some reason, sent a pang of fondness straight to his chest, and Lambert stared blankly at his husband for a moment before walking back to the kitchen in a daze.</p><p>“Fuck,” he announced to the greater kitchen. “Why does he have to be so damn cute?” </p><p>He sat down at the kitchen table and pulled up a search engine, typing in “large Catrine plush”. 40 crowns poorer, he returned to his cooking, and did not think about how entirely gone on this man he was.</p><p>The soup was very good, and once he woke up Aiden obediently finished all of it before slumping over again and starting to cough. Lambert took the trays to the kitchen and came back with more of the cough medicine, doling out a much smaller dose than last time. Aiden took it gratefully and promptly passed back out. Lambert sighed, feeling a little lonely as he looked down at him. </p><p>“Hurry up and get better,” he mumbled, combing his fingers through Aiden’s hair. “It’s too quiet without you in here making a racket.” </p><p>When night came Aiden was doing a little better, and it was time for yet another little dose of cough medicine as it returned. Aiden looked unbelievably exhausted, the antibiotics and sickness and medicine all doing a number on his body even without the fever that kept breaking and returning. Aiden coughed again, closing his eyes against it, and Lambert climbed into bed with him and pulled him over to curl against him. </p><p>“If you get sick you’re gonna be upset,” Aiden mumbled, and Lambert brushed the sweaty hair off of his forehead. </p><p>“Yeah, but I’ll live. You can ship me off to Geralt’s house and he can quarantine me in the stables,” Lambert said, letting Aiden settle. “You’re feeling shitty, and I can help, so I’m going to.” </p><p>Aiden sighed, pressing his face to Lambert’s shirt. “I love you <em>so much</em>,” he mumbled, sounding utterly miserable. “I hate being sick.” </p><p>“I know, sweetheart. I know.” </p><p>Aiden was back asleep quickly once he managed to get comfortable, and Lambert let himself sleep too, once he’d managed to spoon himself around Aiden’s limp form. In the morning he found them still nested together, and kissed Aiden’s temple before getting out of bed to get food made. </p><p>Aiden managed about half of it before begging off, his stomach unhappy, and Lambert managed to get him to hand over Dasha’s number before he took more cough medicine. This time Aiden at least managed to stay mostly alert, and Lambert left him with one of his graphic novels before heading out to the main room and calling Dasha’s number. </p><p>It rang twice before being picked up and answered with a very frosty, “Hello?”</p><p>“Uh, hi,” Lambert said, immediately stumbling on his words and wincing. “This is Lambert. Just calling to keep you updated, he’s doing a lot better this morning.” </p><p>“Oh!” The frost eased. “I’m glad you thought to call, I’m terrible with texts. Is he eating well? He’s not feverish, is he?” </p><p>“He got about half his breakfast eaten, I’ve saved the rest for when he’s hungry again,” Lambert reported. “And his temperature’s gone down again, I think all the sleep yesterday did him good. I think he’ll be good by the end of the week, if not a lot sooner.” </p><p>There was a faint sigh of relief down the line, and Lambert sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m glad to hear it,” Dasha said quietly. “Sickness usually hits him hard.” </p><p>Dasha lived in Toussaint, Lambert remembered. That was a long way to be worrying about your brother, who didn’t like doctors and was married to a man you’d never met- if it had been Geralt like this, Lambert couldn’t say he wouldn’t have found a way to fly out anyway. He felt a sudden stab of kinship for this man. “I’ll do everything I can to keep him well.”</p><p>“Good,” Dasha said, and sounded much nicer than he had at the start of the call. There was a sound in the distance, and Dasha sighed, very slightly. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Keep me posted.” </p><p>And once again he hung up without a goodbye. </p><p>“Bossy,” Lambert murmured, but he felt his face twitch into a smile. Seems like Aiden came by it honestly, at least. </p><p>The mail arrived around the time Lambert started on lunch, the usual bills and the box containing the new plush. Lambert opened it in the closet and pulled out the pillow sized oval Catrine, whose big blue eyes were brightly cheerful and had little sparkle shapes added to the embroidery. Her ears were pointy, a tuft of pink fluffy hair-fur-something sticking up between them and a short fluffy tail coming from the back of the same fuzzy material.  She was very soft, the fabric the kind he thought was called minky, and her little satin stitched face was frankly adorable, as were the four floppy little paws that hung from her. She was also eyewatering pink, and as he held her up he couldn’t quite help smiling.</p><p>Cute. </p><p>Catrine was carefully buried among his blankets and things and Lambert went back  to check on Aiden, only to find him snoring and fast asleep. irrationally pleased, Lambert trotted back to his closet and closed the door, burrowing into his blankets and wrapping them over him and the Catrine before falling asleep for a morning nap. His sleep schedule wouldn’t thank him, but was willing to tolerate it if he could get the Catrine to smell more like him than a store.</p><p>He slept in snatches, while Aiden stayed asleep for most of the day, only waking up for a few bites for lunch before passing back out. Lambert kept the Catrine close to him, and was relatively pleased by how quickly it started to smell more like him. He deemed it good enough by the end of the day, when Aiden was decidedly awake and very bored, and he steeled his nerves and started gathering things for his plan. </p><p>First came dinner, which was the soup that Aiden liked the most and which was actually eaten at the dinner table after Aiden put up a fuss about staying in bed. Lambert had made him a heavy minestrone with noodles, and once that was eaten he was bundled into Lambert’s bedroom and Lambert plopped the breakfast-in-bed table tray down with the laptop on it, the first disc from the Catrine set that Deidre had given him in it. He turned it on to the menu, Aiden watching with amusement as he bustled around getting everything set up and the pillows fluffed just so. </p><p>“So,” he said, “I got you a gift.” </p><p>“Uh oh,” Aiden said, smiling. “Well, at least it isn’t more furniture, unless you ordered that online and somehow got it here without me noticing.” </p><p>Lambert snorted. “As if I’d buy you furniture online.” </p><p>Aiden’s lips twitched. </p><p>“Anyway,” Lambert continued, suddenly a bit nervous. “I hope you like it.” </p><p>He ducked into the closet and grabbed the Catrine plush, hiding it behind his back as he walked back to the bed, and then pulled it out and gently set it in Aiden’s lap. </p><p>Aiden stared, eyes wide, and carefully reached out to pick her up. His mouth wobbled and he abruptly crushed her to his chest, eyes welling up with tears.</p><p>“Oh, no, you’re crying,” Lambert said, alarmed. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I’ll fix it-” </p><p>Aiden shook his head frantically, holding out an arm for a hug. Lambert immediately climbed onto the bed and pulled him into one, unsure what to do. He’d really thought this was the right thing, but-</p><p>“I’m <em>happy</em>,” Aiden said, in between choked off breaths. “M’so happy, thank you- she <em>smells like you</em>, I’m happy, I’m really happy.” </p><p>Oh. Oh, they were the good kind of tears. But also Lambert kind of wanted to strangle every person who made this small of a gesture seem enormous to Aiden. He leaned them both back against the headboard, reaching up to smooth Aiden’s hair and scritch at his scalp. Aiden’s tears changed to little hiccuping noises, and Aiden buried his face in the crook of Lambert’s neck. </p><p>“Guess you get pretty emotional when you’re sick too, huh,” Lambert said quietly, and Aiden made a vague noise of agreement. “Still want to watch, or are you worn out?” </p><p>“No,” Aiden said into his chest, “wanna watch it with you.” </p><p>He shifted just enough to be able to see the laptop screen, and Lambert settled them both a little better before hitting play on the video. Aiden made a happy noise, grabbing the plush so it was squished between them, and Lambert felt himself melt a little. Alright, this was a good idea. Aiden was thrilled to talk to him about his favorite show, which was absolutely a delight and very entertaining, and they fell asleep curled up together with the Catrine firmly in Aiden’s arms where he slept on Lambert’s chest.</p><p>By the next morning Aiden was feeling much better, more alert and not coughing nearly as much. After another day it was gone entirely, just in time for Vesemir to invite them to dinner. </p><p>Aiden was back to his cheerful and lively self when they arrived at the house, greeting Vesemir with a bright smile and a cake, and they had a thoroughly nice dinner with a roast and plenty of rich, filling winter foods. Aiden absolutely thrived under Vesemir’s attention, something Vesemir and Lambert both very clearly noticed, and Lambert took the opportunity to leave them be to do the dishes and go slip over to his old bedroom. It was quiet and small, cozy rather than cramped, and he trailed his fingers along his old beat-up desk with a bit of a smile. He had aggressively cleared out any real trace of his childhood, but the desk still had several carved in curses and random symbols, a few splatters of paint from old art projects, and stickers from when he was younger and Gweld had gotten enthusiastic about them. This room was mostly a guest room now, but the blankets were the same as he’d always had, and the window still looked out at the yard and mountains beyond. </p><p>He sat on the bed, looking at the walls. He’d rolled up the old punk show posters and put those in the closet, but Vesemir had replaced them with artsy photos of trees Lambert had taken for a photography class in high school. There were still traces of him in this room, in this house, a little reminder that it was still his space if it needed to be. </p><p>There were no plush toys, though. He’d never had any as a kid, had considered himself too old for them by the time he came to Vesemir’s care. Lambert ran his fingers over the blanket, mouth twisting. Aiden had been the same way, but now he loved soft things, especially his little keychain plush. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to find something he could hold like that. </p><p>Then again, he had Aiden, who was plenty soft. </p><p>It was something to think about, anyway. </p><p>He came out of the room to find Vesemir on the phone, and after he raised an eyebrow got a mouthed, ‘Guxart’, so he nodded and went to find Aiden. A quick glance out of the wall of windows at the back showed Aiden outside, hands shoved in his pockets. Lambert grabbed a pair of blankets off of the couch, swinging one over his own shoulders, pulling the one edge up to drape over his shoulder. Aiden looked over with a smile as he came outside. He draped the blanket over Aiden’s shoulders and Aiden smiled at him, pulling it a little tighter around himself. </p><p>“You just barely got over being sick,” Lambert pointed out, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Don’t go doing it again.” </p><p>“I know, I know… I just…” Aiden rested his head against Lambert’s shoulder, looking out at the snow beyond the porch. “I was just thinking about you growing up here, and seeing this all the time. The country mouse to my city mouse. I grew up on benches and bus stops and sleeping wherever I could, and you were out here running wild and riding horses and learning to swordplay. Our lives were just so different, but we still ended up together, despite everything.” </p><p>The snow is falling softly, and Mathilde in the distance is stomping through the snow, shaking her head as she frolics.</p><p>“I hated it here, at first,” Lambert admitted, his voice quiet. “I tried to run away about once every two months. I never got very far because Vesemir’s good at what he does, and he made it a game for Eskel and Geralt and Gweld to go get me, and they thought that was great fun. They were all 14 so they had all this energy to get out anyway. And that was what made me stop trying to really run away, actually. Gweld was so excited the first time he found me, he was thrilled he’d tracked me right. He was so happy to see me, and he carried me on his shoulders all the way home. They were always so happy and excited to see me, and I stopped being scared. When I stopped running away they were kind of disappointed. So we made it a game, and that’s how I learned tracking. One of them would run away, and I’d go with the others to find them.” </p><p>“That’s both incredibly morbid and extremely sweet,” Aiden said, arm snaking out from the blanket to return the waist hold. “I imagine you got very good at it.” </p><p>“Very, very good,” Lambert agreed. “I started helping with search and rescues when I was 11, I was that good. But it was coming back here with the others that made me realize I wanted to stay. Because the house would always be fully lit up, every light on so I could find my way back and see people in the windows.” </p><p>Aiden looked up at him, eyes going soft. “That’s why you’ve never complained about leaving the blinds open at night.”</p><p>Lambert smiled, watching as the wind chime swung in the faint breeze. “Can you blame me for wanting to come home and see you lit up and safe?” </p><p>“You’re such a romantic, you can’t just say these things, you <em>bastard</em>,” Aiden muttered, and pulled him down to kiss him, soft and sweet and light as the fresh fallen snow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter came about at the request of a very kind person who wishes to remain anonymous. Thank you SO MUCH for bringing this chapter to life, it's now one of my absolute favorites and I'm very grateful for your kindness to me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Lambert thinks with portals, Geralt drops metaphorical bombs, and the inherent tragedy of Witchers remains inherently tragic.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for the canonical sacking of Kaer Morhen, child injury and presumed (not actual) death, canon typical violence against monsters, Geralt being an idiot and nearly having a literal heart attack.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last semester of Aiden and Lambert’s undergraduate schooling started off quiet. It didn’t stay that way for long. Three days into the semester, the call came at four in the afternoon, just as the darkness was starting to well up on the edges of the sky. </p><p>Lambert had just finished his homework, a small blessing, when his phone started blasting the alert reserved for the Preserve’s emergency number. He scrambled for it as Aiden poked his head out of the room to identify the source of the racket, and quickly put it to his ear. </p><p>“Lambert,” he barked, and Rennes’ heavy voice greeted him. </p><p>“Rendezvous at the Preserve fast as you can get here,” he said, and Lambert’s blood ran cold. “A kid was just picked up by a griffin. You know the drill. Your brothers and the mages are portalling in. Hurry.” </p><p>The line went dead. </p><p>Lambert didn’t know if he’d ever geared up faster, taking his wedding band off his finger and putting it on a chain around his neck as he threw on his Bear gear coat and strapped on his greaves, slapping his bomb belt on around his hips. Aiden helped him with the coat, face ashen, and grabbed the keys as they bolted down the stairs. It wasn’t snowing, but the streets were slick and Aiden held the wheel in a tight knuckled grip as he headed for Geralt’s home. Lambert pulled out his phone, dialing Keira’s number without even looking. </p><p>She answered on the second ring. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Do you have the energy to portal here and portal more?” He asked, forgoing the formalities. “A kid was just taken by a griffin. We don’t have much time.” </p><p>“<em>Shit</em>. Where’s the meet up?” </p><p>“The base at the foot of the mountains. Rendezvous is in 15 minutes, I’m portalling in from Geralt’s.” Lambert grabbed the door as Aiden took a corner a little fast, but Aiden easily kept control of the car. “Triss and Yennefer will go up with us, maybe Istredd if he’s not being pissy about Geralt again.” </p><p>Keira huffed what might have been a laugh. “As if. I’ll get my gear, see you in fifteen.” </p><p>She hung up on him, and Lambert shoved his phone into his pocket, feeling a welling pit of dread open in his stomach. </p><p>“Aiden,” he said, wincing as they took another fast corner. “I don’t know when we’ll be back.” </p><p>“Any guesses?” </p><p>“Hopefully before dawn, but maybe not.” The dark was closing in fast, and the likelihood of a kid lasting this long in the cold and dark with a hungry griffin was miserably slim. “Might be tomorrow or later. They’re probably going to send me with Eskel and Geralt into the deeper parts of the preserve, we’ll be deep out there.” </p><p>“The snow, though-” </p><p>“Snowmobiles, or portals,” Lambert said, and they turned up the drive to Geralt’s house. As soon as Aiden had parked in the circular turn around Lambert leaned over to kiss him hard, and Aiden made a faint noise of anxiety. When he pulled back, Aiden’s eyes were wide and worried. Lambert cupped his cheek, taking him in and memorizing his face in the moment. “Take care of Deidre, she’s going to be a mess. And Jaskier won’t ever say it but he’s going to be a disaster too. Don’t leave here unless you have to.” </p><p>“Okay,” Aiden said, voice soft. Lambert took a deep breath. </p><p>“This is what I do,” he said, and kept his voice as gentle as possible. “I’ve been doing it since I was very little, Aiden. I won’t promise you it’ll be alright, or that I’ll come back completely safe, because I can’t say that for sure. But I’ll do my best.” </p><p>“I love you,” Aiden said, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “Please don’t do anything stupid.” </p><p>“No promises, with this crew,” Lambert said, and kissed him again for good measure before climbing out of the car. Yennefer was storming out of the door, dressed in a long silver coat with a massive ruff of fur, a falchion on her back and her hands crackling with violet energy. Triss came next in hunter green, her hair out of its braids in a halo around her head. With a crack, the portal opened, and Geralt and Eskel came out in their winter gear and started jumping through. </p><p>Lambert spared one last look at Aiden, standing by the car, and leapt into the portal. </p><p>A moment of feeling the world torn apart and remade and he stepped out into the visitor center at the base of the Preserve to a small horde of people dressed for a hunt. The room bristled with fur, leather, and swords, though there were a few bobble hats on heads. Rennes and the other managers of the Preserve were at the front, prepping to speak. He saw more than a few different kinds of medallions out on chests, Kolgrim and Serrit with their Vipers standing next to Junod and Ivo von Belhaven (no relation) with their Bears, and to his genuine shock Guxart was there and yawning with his Cat’s head snarling. Istredd had actually come, a genuine surprise. Vesemir was with Guxart, and they all went to him. Guxart waved, grinning, and was about to say something when a new portal ripped open on top of a table. </p><p>Keira stepped out of the portal dressed in winter leathers of buckskin and a fur lined vest’s tall collar peeking out over the top of her scale maille covered armor surcoat, which glittered and shivered against the dark blue dyed leather. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her gauntlets on, and the sigil carved brass knuckles on her hands flashed as she hopped off the table, tall red boots covering her knees and reinforced with knee guards. Her leggings were dark green, reinforced with strips of metal. </p><p>“Sorry about the table,” she said awkwardly, and just for a moment, it was as if she never left. “Am I late?” </p><p>“Right on time,” Rennes reassured her, and clapped his hands. Everyone turned to him, Keira falling in next to Lambert and bumping his shoulder. “Alright, most of you know it all by now, but to sum up: A kid was plucked up by a griffin, Andra va Fereen. She’s 6, dressed in an all red snow suit, dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin. Goal is to retrieve the kid in whatever state she’s in, and take out the griffin who took her. Depredation tags for Griffin #899234 have been issued, and any others who might go for the kid.” </p><p>Mattias stepped forward, holding up transponders that clipped to the chains of their necklaces. “Transponders here, get them! Groups of no less than three, we’ve got you in sets already! Vesemir will be staying here to manage radios, Triss is our medic. Istredd’s managing the portals. Kolgrim, Serrit, Guxart- Little Valley. Ivo, Auckes, Aubry- Highwater. Dethalia, Merenid, Absolom- Trials Trail. Lambert, Eskel, Geralt- Kaer Morhen Valley, take at least Yennefer with you with that much distance to cover. Gethin, Junod, Clayre-”</p><p>Keira quickly grabbed Rennes to verify she was alright to go with them and then joined the four of them properly. </p><p>“Portalling’s fastest,” Yennefer said, “and I’m good to go for now, too many and it’ll be a strain but I should be alright to get us there.” </p><p>“Put us at the base of the split between Kaer Morhen and the Bastion,” Eskel said, “they usually pass over there.” </p><p>Yennefer nodded and snapped open another portal. Geralt made a face like someone had just personally farted in his face and plunged through with a curse, Eskel rolling his eyes as he followed. Keira went next, Lambert bringing up the rear with Yennefer.  </p><p>The night was clear, no cloud cover, making the Kaer Morhen valley even more bitter cold than usual. The wind hit like a physical thing, the cold brutal, and for a moment Lambert could barely breathe from the shock of it as he landed in the snow. The snow was piled deep, but the valley itself was low on depth. Something about the magic of the area kept the worst of the drifts lowered. In the distance on their left the Bastion ruins towered, on the right Kaer Morhen loomed. The lake below was frozen over. </p><p>“Fuck,” Keira said through chattering teeth. </p><p>“Transponders on,” Eskel ordered, and they all turned them on. It wouldn’t save them from an avalanche, but it would make them easier to find. “Geralt?” </p><p>“Griffins’ve been nesting up towards the Bastion,” Geralt said, and Lambert’s scar twinged with ugly memory. “Couple roost at the top of Kaer Morhen, but I think right now they’d want the cover.” </p><p>At this point, they all knew that it was likely to just be a body recovery. Griffins loved to fly high and drop their prey to break it open on sharp rocks. If the child was found, there likely wouldn’t be a happy ending to the story. </p><p>Lambert was almost an unhappy ending. Harpies, though, they were worse, they’d just rip you open without the joy of flight. He couldn’t quite stop staring at the Bastion in the distance, the scar that ran from his left hip in a jagged diagonal nearly to his spine aching like it usually only did when the weather abruptly shifted. The Bastion loomed, its shattered walls inky stains in the moonlight, and he finally dragged his eyes away to follow the group. Geralt fell back to walk with him without a word, their gloved hands brushing. </p><p>Lambert didn’t actually remember much of the harpy attack. It had been bad, he was well aware of that, but he just really remembered the rush of feathers and the inhuman roar that Geralt had made when it tore into him. He learned later that Geralt had killed three of them on his own, berserk with rage and fear, and his own memories picked up in the Bastion. Night was coming on, the cold even more so, but they couldn’t get to the safer and stocked walls of Kaer Morhen. He could remember Geralt crying, and screaming his throat to shreds when the wound was washed out in the dark, and passing out about the same time that Geralt started stitching him up. </p><p>They’d been found after six hours, Geralt setting a mass of dead wood ablaze on top of the Bastion’s remaining ramparts as a signal. Lambert had woken up to Vesemir there, and he’d been so relieved he’d slipped and called him Dad, and fuck if it hadn’t been a relief to be held then. </p><p>Vesemir had asked him later, in the hospital, if he wanted to stop training for his license. But he’d just thrown himself into it harder when he was better. </p><p>He didn’t want anyone to feel like he had ever again. </p><p>His feet crunched in the snow, and he slipped. Geralt caught him and righted him without blinking, all instinct, and Lambert breathed out and watched his breath cloud in the air. Geralt had nightmares about it, he knew. More than once he’d gotten calls late at night, Geralt just needing to know he was safe. He didn’t take well to seeing Lambert injured, even now, and when Lambert had only just returned home Geralt slept on his floor for two weeks. </p><p>He’d hated it then. Now, as they crunched along the path, looking up at the sky to check for any sight of flying things, that hatred is long since gone. Lambert understood, for all they didn’t talk about it. </p><p>Keira, two people in front of them, froze. </p><p>“There,” she said, pointing towards the mouth of the valley. “There, is that-” </p><p>They all turned, and Lambert’s heart nearly stopped. </p><p>“Griffin,” Eskel agreed, voice tight. “Run.” </p><p>Geralt’s long legs and not-quite-natural speed sent him the fastest down the path, Lambert close behind and Eskel’s lope taking third. They reached the edge of the trail and Eskel fished the small tactical binoculars he carried out of his hip bag, training them on the incoming griffin. They weren’t needed. It was now close enough they could see the small red bundle in its talons. </p><p>“Shit,” Eskel breathed as the mages joined them. “I can’t tell for sure with the wind, but I think she’s moving.” </p><p>Keira made a strangled noise of relief and horror, Yennefer’s mouth going tight. </p><p>Lambert stared at the griffin, up in the air, and felt his mind whirr. There were few options until the griffin got past the lake, but that was closing in on them. </p><p>“Aard?” Keira asked, and Geralt shook his head. </p><p>“The lake,” he said, “they’d break through.” </p><p>“Portals,” Lambert said, and Geralt’s head snapped around to him. He barely noticed, focusing on trajectories and speed, and fumbled his hand in his pouch for his wind gauge, mouthing off a count as he watched the dial. “Portals, we can take it down from above.” </p><p>There was a brief pause, and then Geralt groaned, pulling out his hybrid oil to quickly run it over his blade. </p><p>“If we do it right,” Eskel rasped, eyes fixed on the griffin. “We can do it.” </p><p>“I hate everything about this,” Keira groaned. “Lambert, run us through it, out loud.” </p><p>“Yenn opens a portal above the griffin, Geralt goes through and tries to sever the spine, Keira opens a second portal for either the kid or the griffin and Geralt when it drops, we get the kid, Yenn opens a portal for Keira to jump back with the kid to the base, Eskel lights it up when it hits the ground, I’ve got bombs and I’m the anchor for the energy,” Lambert rattled off, eyes fixed on the small red bundle. “Keira, you’ve got to get her to Triss, that’s the only way she’ll make it if she’s alive, they’ll need two of you to stabilize.” </p><p>“I <em>hate</em> portals,” Geralt muttered, and downed half an adrenaline potion. A shudder passed through his entire system and his pupils blew out so wide they nearly eclipsed the iris entirely. The griffin was coming ever closer, the massive wings beating the air. “Count us off, Lamb. Let’s go.” </p><p>“Don’t die,” Yennefer ordered, and kissed Geralt hard as he readied himself. </p><p>The griffin crested close. Lambert put his hand on Yennefer’s shoulder as she lifted her hands, and took a deep, slow breath. “Three, two, <em>now</em>.” </p><p>The portal bloomed with exact timing and Geralt leapt through, deposited midair over the griffin with his sword pointed straight down. It plunged into the beasts back and it shrieked in fury. It shook, talons loosening. The red shape was starting to slip. </p><p>“Eskel, Quen on the kid, Yennefer slow her down, Keira <em>now</em>,” Lambert yelled through the clamor. The gold of Quen covered the little red body as it fell from the talons directly into a portal, the other half open at Keira’s side. Eskel caught the bundle as she came sailing through, and desperately checked for a pulse as the griffin thrashed towards the ground. Geralt was a silver and black shape on its back, desperately trying to stay on. Lambert craned his head to look at the child. Her face was ashen pale from the cold and her hands were bare of gloves, scratched and damaged, but she still had her boots and the rips in the snowsuit weren’t as bad as he would have expected.</p><p>“Alive!” Eskel yelled over the griffin’s screams, passing her to Keira, who immediately cast something on her and started looking grey. </p><p>Yennefer <em>pulled</em>, and Lambert’s knees buckled at the force of it as another portal ripped open and Keira ran through, vanishing. Yennefer made a desperate noise of pain and Lambert blinked through the spots in his vision. </p><p>“Strain,” she gasped, and the two of them grabbed each other to try and stay upright. “Come on.” </p><p>Eskel was already running towards the soon to be landing site, hand up to cast Quen on Geralt, and Lambert’s heart slammed against his ribs as the screaming, furious griffin crashed to the ground. Geralt went flying but landed well, ducking into a roll and coming up on his feet in time to throw Yrden up. </p><p>“Back!” Eskel roared, and Geralt jumped back as Eskel’s Igni hit the griffin with the force of a bomb. Lambert fished out one of his bombs and flicked Igni to the tip, shouting a warning as he set it spinning through the air. The real bomb hit it in the back and exploded near perfectly on impact. The griffin shrieked and spun, lashing out with its vicious feet, and they all jumped back as it slammed against Yrden and thrashed.</p><p>Yennefer threw up a static cage around it, and all it took after that was a few well placed stabs and hacks, along with one more bomb, and the griffin lay dead on the snow. The cage vanished, leaving them with the body, and all of them stared at it for a moment. </p><p>Fights were always so goddamn fast. Lambert would never really get used to it. </p><p>Eskel took the initiative to run over and check the band on the griffin’s foot. “#899234,” he said grimly, “we got it.”</p><p>“There’s that done at least,” Yennefer said, and for a moment they all breathed easier. </p><p>And then, of course, because nothing in life could be easy, things got worse. Lambert glanced over just in time to see Geralt vomit and grab his chest, stumbling sideways and falling into a snowbank as his eyes rolled up in his head. </p><p>“Geralt!” Eskel yelled, and Yennefer bolted for him. Lambert and Eskel ran to join her as fast as they could. She yanked off her gloves and pressed her fingers to his pulse, eyes going wide. </p><p>“His heart?” Eskel demanded, and she nodded, face setting with determination against the fear. For once the cold would help against the damage, cooling Geralt’s body to help him come down. </p><p>“Be ready for CPR if it gives out,” she warned, slapping her hand down on his chest. Human bodies just weren’t meant to take the kind of abuse Witchers could be put through, and Geralt was courting a heart attack with as much as he’d taken. The air stank of blood and ozone, and Geralt was painfully still. Lambert knew from past, very unpleasant experience, how unfun it was to overdose on the adrenaline mix. </p><p>“Fucker hasn’t been keeping up with his doses, has he,” he said without much heat, and Yennefer nodded, face drawn as she moved her free hand to check his pulse. Lack of built up tolerance after a while without could and had killed plenty of hunters in the past. </p><p>“Don’t you even dare,” Yennefer growled to her partner, and Geralt wheezed faintly, hand twitching to rest against her leg. She closed her eyes and her hair lifted, purple light crackling around her. Black lines seeped up into her skin, and she started to shake, but Geralt heaved a deep, clear breath, and she grinned, big and feral. </p><p>Lambert jerked back as she ripped her hands away from Geralt with a shout, throwing herself backwards and pointing them towards the trees. The blackness shot out of her skin to land in the snow, where it sat as steaming sludge. </p><p>Geralt groaned, hand coming up to press on his chest. “<em>Ow</em>.” </p><p>Eskel thumped him on the head and immediately tackled him in a hug as Lambert helped Yennefer up.</p><p>“What did you do?” he asked as Eskel started chewing Geralt out, and Yennefer gave him a shaky smile. </p><p>“I pulled the remnants of the potion out of him,” she explained, and then quickly turned her head to be sick. Lambert grimaced, carefully rubbing her back. </p><p>She and Geralt both cleaned their mouths out with snow, and once that was done they all staggered to their feet. </p><p>“There’s no way you can get us back safely like this,” Eskel said as Yennefer raised her hands. “We're going to have to find shelter until they can send someone up. We can shoot them a message when we’re safe.”</p><p>“Not the Bastion,” Geralt gasped out, and they all instinctively looked up to the shattered ruin on the hill. Lambert felt his skin crawl. There wasn’t much left of it after all these years, a few ragged walls and a couple of hidey-holes that might have been storage rooms once.</p><p>“Not the Bastion,” he agreed, and they all turned to look up at the looming shape of Kaer Morhen. </p><p>Shit. </p><p>It was a struggle to get up the trail with the griffin corpse, but they managed it, and ducked into the waiting curtain wall and followed it up towards the main keep. A few portions of it were still relatively sheltered, the walls not completely gone and entire rooms remaining. One tower was almost entirely as it had been when the place was abandoned. The griffin was tucked away into a corner where it was unlikely to be too heavily snowed on, and the four of them stumbled into the entry hall. Down the narrow corridor they went into the massive Great Hall, taking a turn out into what was once the kitchens. A massive hearth stood empty but with cords of wood stacked neatly at its sides. The wind whistled through a few smaller holes in the walls, but it was much warmer than out in the elements</p><p>“You know, I used to think it was batshit to still stock this place every year,” Eskel said, looking at the hearth, “but damned if it hasn’t needed use every fucking year because someone winds up here and gets stuck. Didn’t ever think it’d be us.” </p><p>“Just light the damn fire,” Yennefer said, voice haggard, and Eskel set to work building up the fire in the hearth while Lambert went to find the emergency gear. </p><p>Kaer Morhen had been left untouched since nearly 1300 until its rediscovery and dedication as a formal Preserve and monument in 1871. Since then, people had uncovered more and more of the old building, and archeologists had dug out portions of it. There was evidence that someone, likely the last of the true Wolf Witchers, had worked to keep the place up judging by questionable but sturdy craftsmanship and upkeep that dated sooner than the wreckage, and the protection spells had managed to last literal centuries since their placement. There was some belief that they could be near to 1000 years old. </p><p>Lambert had grown up in these halls. He knew them all, where to jump, where to look, what parts of the Keep to avoid for concerns of wood rot and where the stones were solid. He could navigate it near blind, if necessary, as he did then, and made his way to what they were relatively certain was once a classroom. There were emergency packs hidden in a chest there, keyed to the medallions, and Lambert fished the three packs out and shouldered them before turning and jogging back to the hall. </p><p>He stopped about halfway through the hall, skin prickling. There was an odd pressure between his shoulder blades, and he looked around the room. It wasn’t quite like being watched, but he didn’t feel entirely welcome either. He looked up to the rafters in case of owls, but there was nothing there. </p><p>Suspicious, Lambert returned to the kitchen and handed one of the packs off to Eskel, who pulled out bottled water and the serious strength painkillers for Geralt. </p><p>“I feel watched,” Lambert said once Geralt had downed five. “What about you?”</p><p>“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Eskel grimaced. “But yeah. I feel watched.” </p><p>“Agreed,” Yennefer said, looking around the room.</p><p>Geralt shook his head, breathing hard as he slowly laid down in front of the fire on one of the emergency camp pads. “Don’t worry about it, they’re fine.” </p><p>“They?” Eskel said sharply. </p><p>“Yeah,” Geralt said, his breathing evening out. Clearly the painkillers were working fast. “They’re just confused. We look like them, but we’re all wrong. They think we’re Witchers, but our eyes are wrong.” He looked up in the air, smiling at something none of the rest of them could see. “Sorry, we’re only shadows of what you were. It took all of us to take down a single griffin, we’re only human. Can you watch for us tonight? There will be others coming for us.” </p><p>The pressure immediately vanished, and Lambert gaped at Geralt as he settled down. He saw Eskel and Yennefer jolt too, both of them clearly feeling the change.</p><p>“Is this a druid thing?” He demanded. “Since when can you talk to spirits?” </p><p>“I always could,” Geralt said with a shrug, like he wasn’t blowing everyone’s minds. “They’re not really spirits, they’re… shadows. I don’t think time works for them like it does for us, they don’t know when we are, and they’re not very… here? I don’t know. I used to talk to them all the time when I was little, and then Eskel came and couldn’t see them so I stopped. He was more interesting anyway.” He sat up abruptly, making everyone jump. “Oh! I can show you.” </p><p>He clambered up and went jogging out of the room, leaving the three of them behind staring blankly. </p><p>“Um,” Yennefer said. </p><p>“Hmm,” Eskel agreed. </p><p>“What the fuck,” Lambert said, summing the situation up nicely. </p><p>There was a faint clattering noise, and Geralt came back with a strange, dusty lantern. It looked ancient and yet new, clearly magical in nature, and Yennefer’s eyes widened as Geralt opened the little door and stuck his fingers inside. </p><p>“Geralt, that’s spelled-” </p><p>The wick inside caught, and green light spilled out of it. Geralt held it up, walking over, and Lambert’s heart went straight to his throat as the wobbling black shape of feet appeared out of nowhere. They were joined by legs, a torso, arms, shoulders, and a head. The shape was vaguely masculine, watery and wobbling. </p><p>“See?” Geralt said as they all stared in petrified shock at the ghost. “Ghosts.” </p><p>A voice spoke, as if from rooms away, the figure shifting back and forth. “<em>Have to go down to the lake tomorrow with them,</em>” it said. Yennefer clapped a hand over her mouth. “<em>Back for winter late…</em>” </p><p>It walked away and Geralt happily went and sat down on the bedroll again. </p><p>They sat in dumbfounded silence, and Eskel finally said, “Geralt… What is that?” </p><p>“I dunno,” Geralt said cheerfully. “I found it hidden in the walls one day and when I lit it, it showed me the ghosts better. Kind of. They’re more like echos than ghosts.” </p><p>Yennefer swallows hard. “Geralt… you’ve been talking to <em>800 year old ghosts</em> since you were a child?” </p><p>Geralt flopped over onto her shoulder, nosing at her cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighed. “I love you <em>so much</em>.” </p><p>Yennefer looked torn between cooing at him and screaming. “You are very, very high my love.” </p><p>“I really am, it’s <em>great</em>.” </p><p>Eskel glanced at Lambert, who shrugged helplessly. He’d never noticed anything like this from Geralt, but that didn’t mean anything. Geralt was weird and always had been. It could just be a druid thing, but who even could guess, with Geralt. </p><p>“Get some sleep,” Eskel said to the pair. “I’ll take Lambert and we’ll radio down for people to get us, but I’m going to guess that we’re going to be here til dawn.” </p><p>Yennefer nodded and tugged Geralt into laying back down. “Take the lantern,” she said, eyeing the green light that spilled out of it. “It’s odd, but it’s not malevolent, and you’ll want the light.” </p><p>Lambert reluctantly took the lantern, and went with Eskel to go to the tower where the emergency radio would work. Cell phone service wasn’t a thing this deep in the mountains, radio was the only real option, and so a small emergency hand-crank radio lived in the tower nearest the lake. They didn’t run into any ghosts until halfway through the hall, when the light illuminated a small body playing with something, the wobbling black shape laughing a little to himself. </p><p>Lambert stopped, staring, and Eskel made a small, pained noise. The kid couldn’t have been more than maybe four, and a pair of boots walked up, speaking an accent so broad and old that Lambert couldn’t hope to understand. The kid laughed, gleeful, and held up his arms. The adult shape bent and picked him up, holding him close. The toy looked to be a little horse. The child was carried way out of the light, leaving the echoes of giggles behind. </p><p>“Shit,” Eskel said, his voice thick, and Lambert knew what he was thinking of the same as he did. </p><p>They’d all seen the bodies. Four of them were still being examined at the Preserve’s scientific research center. Some of them had been painfully small. All of them had died violently. </p><p>“Could have been Geralt,” Eskel said, and Lambert’s breath caught in his throat. “Could have been you or me.” </p><p>“I don’t wanna think about it,” Lambert said tightly, and they walked further out to the courtyard. They ran into more ghosts there; a man cursing out a teenager with a sword, gesturing in forms that looked painfully familiar to the ones Lambert used himself. Two men arguing, one in armor that looked like Lambert’s, a child standing by them rocking on his heels and looking back and forth. A pair of early teenagers huddled in a dip of the wall together, clutching each other, a pair of bitten off screams. </p><p>There were divots in the stone behind the last ghosts. Lambert stared at them, Eskel bending down to gently touch them. </p><p>“Pitchfork, I’d bet,” he said, very quiet. “It isn’t a mob without them, is it?” </p><p>There were skeletons, even now, in the moat outside Kaer Morhen. Skeletons in a cave near a massive dead ogre, from a wide range of years. Skeletons in the lake. </p><p>Lambert knew. He had always known, ever since Vesemir had first brought him to the ruin, he’d known the kind of horror that becoming a Witcher involved, to an extent. He’d found remains centuries old and reported them in his work, and he’d been involved with plenty of different works around the Preserve, but the knowledge was never any easier to bear. </p><p>He moved the lantern away before the children could return to their endless loop of death. “Let’s get this over with.” </p><p>There was only a man reading in an invisible chair in the room with the radio, no dead children to worry about. Lambert made Eskel send the message that they were safe, the griffin dead, and at Kaer Morhen. He couldn’t stop watching the ghost turn pages. He looked comfortable, calm. </p><p>How many dead children had lived here, over the many long years?</p><p>Eskel wanted to head back, but Lambert pressed his lips together and walked towards the walls, holding up the lantern and watching Kaer Morhen’s past playing out. There were so many child sized ghosts, laughing and giggling. The teenagers were more quiet, usually sparring, but some of them were playing with the littler ones. Eskel pulled him to a halt when they reached a side wall, where a pair of adults were quietly talking together, heads leaned in intimately close, nose to nose.</p><p>Lambert’s throat ached, and he blinked back tears as one huffed a laugh and sat on a bench that didn’t exist anymore, pulling the other down with him. </p><p>They turned around after that, and went back to the hearth. They extinguished the ghost light without a word, and Eskel curled in tight against Geralt’s other side where he slept with Yennefer under the survival blankets. </p><p>Lambert watched them as Eskel drifted off. </p><p>There had been love here, in this echoing torture chamber, in the past and the present. Geralt had found friends in ghost children, and then in Eskel. Lambert had found his place with his brothers later on, and they’d shown him all the hideyholes and games they’d played, excited to have someone else to join them in the ruin. He had learned to fight in nearly the same spot as some of the Witcher trainees, run the same courses that had been burned into the mountainside with hundreds of tiny feet, uncovered by excavation. The Guantlet, some of the records called it. </p><p>Lambert waited til Eskel was definitely asleep and lit the lamp again, walking back out into the cold to the huddling children. He sat down in their dark forms, closing his eyes, and he could almost feel their thundering hearts. </p><p>“It’s okay,” he whispered to the wind. “It’s okay. There’s no one left, you can move on.” </p><p>Something <em>thudded</em> in his chest, nearly knocking the wind from him, and he felt the rabbit fast hearts fade. He opened his eyes to the usual darkness, the eerie green glow still there, but no dark stains on the snow. </p><p>The pair didn’t come back. </p><p>He went back in and watched the man lift the child again, and this time he followed them, their loop taking him into a small side room with a hearth. They sat in a chair that wasn’t there, and the man began to sing, soft and sweet. Lambert didn’t understand the words in the dialect the man spoke, but the child knew it, echoing the song back with a high, untrained voice, and the melody was one that Lambert knew. </p><p>Jaskier sung it to Ciri all the time. </p><p>He left the room and put the lantern down, and this time he didn’t try to fight down the emotions threatening to swamp him. </p><p>He cried until he was hollowed out, thinking of the little red clad child in Eskel’s arms, and Geralt small with only ghosts for friends, and himself, a Child Surprise, learning that Witchers would claim the law of surprise to take children. </p><p>And when he was all cried out, he snuffed out the light again, and went back to the kitchen, and slept.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>oOo</p>
</div>They woke at dawn, all of them stirring as light came through the windows. The fire had stayed strong through the night, so they stamped it out and piled snow from outside on the ash. They replaced the emergency kits back in their trunk, and Yennefer opened a portal directly to the back yard of the little manor house.<p>They stumbled into the back hall with the house still quiet, but in no time at all there was a thump and Jaskier came careening back into the mud room to slam into Geralt and Yennefer. He said nothing at all but he hugged them so tight his fingers went white, and Yennefer pressed kisses all over his face as Geralt heaved a sigh of relief. </p><p>“Get to a real bed,” he said at last, as Eskel vanished into the house to check in with Deidre. Aiden appeared in the doorway as soon as they slipped away, and Lambert opened his arms with no small amount of relief. </p><p>Aiden slammed into him, hugging him so tight Lambert could feel his ribs creak in protest, but he didn't even bother trying to pull away. </p><p>"Hey," he said, exhausted and relieved. "I'm back."</p><p>"Welcome back," Aiden mumbled into his shoulder. "That was the longest night of my life. Are you okay?"</p><p>"I'm good," Lambert promised, kissing the side of his head. "Got all my fingers and toes, barely got bruised, no frostbite. I'm okay. The kid?"</p><p>“Safe,” Aiden confirmed. “You got her in time. She’s going to lose two fingers and she’s going to have bad scars on her stomach, but she’s alive and mostly well. They’ve got her in the ICU at the hospital. The family has been kind enough to keep Vesemir and Rennes updated.” </p><p>Lambert sighed as the last of his fear vanished, letting his head fall onto Aiden’s shoulder as the strain he’d been feeling eased. </p><p>“I met Keira, by the way,” Aiden said, and Lambert winced. “No, it’s good, she’s going to come stay with us until she’s good to go back. I like her, I think we’re going to get on pretty well. I already took her to the apartment, I came back here since Jaskier said this is where you’d be portalling in to.” </p><p>“Thank fuck,” Lambert muttered, nosing at Aiden’s neck. “I am not fucking up to dealing with a pissing contest right now. Is she okay?” </p><p>“Tired, but okay. C’mon, let’s get you home.” </p><p>Keira was already there, dressed in the oversized purple satin nightgown and drinking hot chocolate when Lambert stumbled in. She handed it over without question and he gulped about half of it down before staggering to his bedroom to start pulling his clothes off. Aiden headed to the kitchen to work on food.</p><p>“You know, I was wondering where these went,” she called as Lambert dragged off his boots. “I can’t believe you kept it!” </p><p>“Didn’t know it was yours,” he called back, shucking his weapons and bomb belt. “Forgot I had it, honestly. Guest bed alright?” </p><p>“Very comfortable.” She got up and came into the room, setting her mug on the bedside table to help him get his gear off with practiced fingers. He gave up and let her, his exhaustion making his fingers clumsy. He’d slept, but it hadn’t been restful. “I like Aiden.” </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. He’s sweet. And definitely out of your league, ugh, he’s so pretty.” His coat was neatly hung up, and Lambert obediently held up his arms for shirt removal. He was too tired to fight her on it. “You lucked out, Lambkin.” </p><p>“I did.” He managed to get the pants off himself, and Keira vanished into his closet to return with a buttery soft set of pajamas for him to climb into. He collapsed back onto the bed without putting them on, groaning. “I should shower, probably.” </p><p>Keira wrinkled her nose, smiling. “Probably. Want help?” </p><p>“Just check I haven’t drowned in like, ten minutes, there’s a bench I can sit on,” he sighed, and dragged himself into the master bathroom. </p><p>Keira did poke her head in after ten minutes. “Aiden made those weird not-actually-scones you like,” she called over the water. “With honey and such. Come eat.” </p><p>Lambert, face down on the tile but freshly washed, gave her a thumbs up. </p><p>He managed to pull on the soft pajamas and stumble out to the kitchen table, where the as-promised Sodden style scones were waiting for him with a massive warmed amount of honey butter and preserves. He collapsed into his chair and immediately started in on them, groaning as the taste exploded on his tongue. The Kaedweni’s called it fry-bread, just dough pulled to a vague round flatness, dipped in bubbling oil and left to cook that way, but his mother had always called them scones and he damn well would eat an entire army’s worth of it. </p><p>“Fanks,” he managed around a mouthful. Keira and Aiden, eating much more sedately, just smiled.  </p><p>He stumbled back to the bedroom once he was full, and bundled up in blankets. Keira joined him not long after. Lambert could hear Aiden humming in the kitchen, reassuringly close, and sighed quietly as he felt himself relax. </p><p>Keira sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. Lambert looked back at her, taking in the little changes and the things that stayed the same. She had a new scar on her lip, one on her collarbone. Her hair was parted differently, the highlights a different tone of gold than she used to like. But she was still Keira. </p><p>Still the first person he’d ever loved. </p><p>He held out his hand and she took it, rough hand in his. She never had liked lotion. Her hands were always rough. </p><p>“You’re happy,” Keira said quietly, and her eyes were soft. “I hoped you would be. I worried about you a lot.” </p><p>“We had to,” Lambert said, keeping his voice just as soft. “It was the right thing, Keira. You were right to do it. We were a wreck.” </p><p>She bit her lip, and climbed over to lay next to him on the bed, hand resting on his chest. He covered it with his, feeling a familiar pang of sadness and fondness. They sat there in silence for a long time, Keira’s thumb gently moving over his chest just like it used to. </p><p>“I’m always going to love you,” Keira said at last, soft. “So much. I need you to know that.” </p><p>“I do,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Really. I do. You know I love you.” </p><p>Keira nodded, turning her head so it gently bumped his. “Fuck, I miss you so bad sometimes. We… We need to be better. Not just meeting up for emergencies once every few years. I’m a mage, I can damn well portal where I please. I want to know Aiden, too, because he’s so good, I can see that already. He’s so good to you. I want to know the people who love you.”</p><p>“Keira…” </p><p>“Shut up,” she mumbled. “I don’t have family, Lamb. I have the Lodge, kind of, and you. And I want you back in my life more, even if it’s just talking more. I’m selfish. I’m allowed to miss my friend.” </p><p>Lambert squeezed her hand again, feeling his heart settle. “I miss you too. We’ll… we’ll do better. I’ll do better.”</p><p>Aiden poked his head in, and smiled at the two of them. “Aww, you two are being cute.” </p><p>“C’mere, sweetheart,” Lambert said, and Aiden softened, coming over to tuck himself against Lambert’s side. Lambert inhaled. Sandalwood and spice, violets and ginger. Home and safety and familiarity. Aiden’s hand found the top of Lambert’s, and Lambert felt his mouth tug into a smile. </p><p>“Don’t go before I wake up,” he mumbled, and Keira made a vague noise of agreement. </p><p>And Lambert drifted off to sleep, finally able to rest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those of you wondering- Geralt is straight up an entirely untrained druid. His link to Chaos was never developed further than his signs, which results in things like being really good with horses, unexpected ghost powers, shockingly good luck against food poisoning, and more durability than the average human. He essentially has ambient magic. He has exactly 0 idea about any of this because it's so low level it's functionally unnoticeable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which love doesn't conquer all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lambert's family has already worked through their issues and is now fairly healthy. Aiden's family has not. It will be okay, but it's not okay right now. </p><p>Please, <em>please</em> take the warnings for this chapter seriously. </p><p>TW: Extensive discussion of addiction (fisstech and liquidum as analogy for cocaine and heroin), on screen smoking, drinking, discussions of child abuse, implications of disordered eating, past food insecurity, past emotional and physical neglect by adults against children/teenagers, discussions about domestic violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keira stayed for two days before leaving. She was fine by the first afternoon, but she didn’t really want to go, and Lambert didn’t want her to leave, so stay she did, which meant Lambert was pampered and scolded in turn by his husband and ex, and honestly it was pretty fucking great. </p><p>Aiden and Keira got on like a house on fire, too. It turned out they had some friends in common from years previous, and besides that, they had a lot just generally in common. Lambert refused to comment on his relief, but it was there all the same. Keira was important to him, and Aiden’s approval went a long way into making him feel secure in their partnership. </p><p>Before Keira left, they were able to go and visit Andra va Fereen, who was eager to show them her new plush griffon (much cuddlier than the original, that was for certain), and who seemed not much the worse for the wear of her adventure. Geralt, Yennefer, Eskel, Lambert, and Keira stayed with her until she grew tired again, and she demanded the story of Geralt coming through the portal at least four times, which they told. </p><p>Andra’s mother, a frail looking woman with big eyes and a tremulous smile, hugged them all very hard. </p><p>It took a week for pay to be dispersed, but eventually the price of the griffon came to Lambert’s bank account and he spent a good twenty minutes wondering if he should just take Aiden to an all inclusive island resort the next day. Half of the money gained from the griffon’s body went to the va Fereen’s, the other half split in quarters between Yennefer, Eskel, Geralt, and Lambert, and then the bounty itself had been divided into quarters. Lambert was now very, very comfortable for at least the next year if he played his cards right. </p><p>“Aiden,” he called, walking out into the living room. Aiden was in the kitchen, and looked up as he came in. </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Any thoughts about a honeymoon?” </p><p>Aiden blinked. “Oh. Uh. That came out of nowhere.” </p><p>“I got paid for the griffon,” Lambert said, and slid behind Aiden to wrap his arms around his waist, resting his head on Aiden’s shoulder. “We’re definitely going to be okay for a while, so… honeymoon, maybe?” </p><p>“I would like that,” Aiden said, resting his hands on Lambert’s and leaning back into him. Lambert basked, thoroughly cozy. “What about Mettina and Ebbing? We could go on a tour of both. I’d get some shit in Mettina for my name but if we put yours on the registrations we would be fine.” </p><p>Lambert blinked. “What? Why?” </p><p>“Didn’t I tell you?” Aiden thought for a moment. “Huh. Guess not. My mom wasn’t married to my dad. He’s a Mettinan noble, Roshan Kettirigen. I think he’s a Count? Or whatever the equivalent is in Mettinan. Mettina law requires that all bastard children of nobility be named with a specific derivative of the father’s name or mother’s name to ensure no incest with the rabble. Kettirigen became Kett. I was born in Ebbing, but my mom was still bound by the law, so I became a Kett.” </p><p>Lambert stared blankly at the kitchen sink, absorbing this. “And your dad never helped her?” </p><p>“Dear old dad was 38 when he got me on her,” Aiden said, with a sort of sick humor. “She was 18. She was lucky he didn’t have her killed. She died penniless and alone in Kaedwen six months before she would have gotten citizenship, and he never lifted a finger to help her because he had other, more pressing concerns with a wife.” </p><p>“So… you have siblings?” </p><p>Aiden nodded, sighing. “I looked them up once. There’s 4 full-blooded Mettinan siblings, proper nobles.  I’m the only Kett in my generation, though. 4 sisters. Mettinan law favors men, so if I went to court with them I’d probably win the title and estates, so they aren’t too keen to reach out, obviously. But that sick fuck’s male lineage ends with me, the oldest can keep the titles and everything else. She hasn’t been able to find a husband of rank to take the Kettirigen name to keep it alive, so I wish them luck with it.” </p><p>“Well damn,” Lambert said after a moment. “I’m learning so much today. How old are they?” </p><p>“Ugh, great question… Adya, the oldest, she’s around the same age my mother was, so maybe early 40’s now- she was from his first wife, who died, and then he remarried another lady of rank. Nathalya is, oh… probably 30? There was a big gap. Then Priya is mid 20’s, she’s young. The second wife died and he remarried again, <em>really</em> young. The youngest is Haniya, she’s only 16.” He shuddered. “My old man is gross. He’s, what… early 60’s now? His current wife is younger than his first daughter.” </p><p>“Fucking <em>yikes</em>.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Aiden turned his head to kiss his cheek. “Luckily, I have a much better, much more real family here, with you. I want nothing to do with them.” </p><p>Lambert kissed his temple, feeling a rush of fondness. “And we want everything to do with you. So. Mettina and Ebbing. Whirlwind tour, go see the sights, climb some mountains, delve through some forests, how about it?” </p><p>“As long as I get to lounge on the beach with a very overpriced and chilled alcoholic beverage in nothing but a very scandalously tiny swimsuit at some point, absolutely.” </p><p>“Don’t let me stop you.” </p><p>Aiden laughed, kissing him again, and wormed out of his arms. “I should get started on dinner, shoo, go work on your papers.” </p><p>“Ugh.” But Lambert went. </p><p>By the time Aiden called him for dinner his head was spinning with trajectory problems, but he stumbled out and went to grab a bowl anyway. Aiden had graduated from “technically can make food” to “relatively competent”, and stew had become the food of the day most of the time when he cooked. It was damn good stew though, so Lambert had nothing to complain about. Dinner was quiet, like usual, Aiden’s legs tangling with his under the table, and once they’d cleaned up Lambert contemplated talking Aiden into some dancing for the evening. </p><p>But it wasn’t to be. </p><p>Aiden’s phone chirped, and Aiden went to the kitchen table to check it. </p><p>“Did you finish the choreography for your beginners?” Lambert asked absently. There was no response. He looked up. “Aiden?”   </p><p>“Gaetan wants to visit,” Aiden said. He was looking at his phone as if it were a bomb that might go off at any second, and Lambert blinked. It took a minute to place the name- Aiden had a lot of acquaintances and friends, but Gaetan was one of the brothers, if he remembered right. The one just older than Aiden. Aiden was mostly quiet about his past before college, but he’d let a few stories slip.</p><p>“And… you don’t want him to?” he guessed. Aiden jolted, looking up at him. </p><p>“No, no, it’s not that...” He bit his lip and put the phone down on the table, sitting down hard in the chair. “Um. I told you that after I was homeless, I lived in a group home. I think I've told you a little about it.” </p><p>Lambert decided it was time to sit down too. This was clearly going to be a longer conversation. “Yeah. Stygga, which was funny because you were born in Ebbing near the original Stygga. You’ve got foster brothers, not legal ones. Dasha’s the oldest.” </p><p>Aiden nodded, running his fingers through his hair and shifting a little in his seat, obviously strained. “It was… rough. We didn’t have much adult supervision. Any adult supervision, actually. The couple who ran it kept most of the money and tossed us spare change sometimes. Dasha took over as the one in charge of keeping us fed and clothed and all that, he even got guardianship from the people who ran Stygga, somehow. He went to work right at 18, didn’t even graduate high school. We were all… um… How to put this. We were all only a few fuck ups away from prison.” </p><p>Lambert hummed, reaching over and offering his hand. Aiden took it, squeezing hard. </p><p>“I don’t know if I want to talk about this,” Aiden said after a moment.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” Lambert said, squeezing back. He gave Aiden a bit of a crooked smile. “Aiden, look. I want to know shit about your life, I do, but you keep that close to your chest and I’m not going to pry. I’m never going to ask. What you tell me has to be freely given. I know you had a lot of shit shoveled onto you from day one, I’m never going to push. If you trust me enough to tell me, fine, I will listen and be grateful to know more of how you got here. But I know you <em>now</em>. And that’s enough, if that’s all it can ever be. I’m not going to lie, I want to know about your family. I want to meet them, I want you to tell me stories about them, I want them in our lives. I know you love Eskel and Geralt and their brood, but you love your family so much. I want to know them.” </p><p>Aiden’s mouth wobbled, and he looked down at the table, free hand coming up to scrub at his eyes. When he’d composed himself again he said, voice rough, “If I loved them less it’d be easier to talk about them, I think. They’re just. They’re <em>mine</em>, you know? Something no one gets to touch.” </p><p>“I understand,” Lambert assured him, and raised their joined hands to kiss his knuckles. “You don’t have to tell me.”</p><p>“No. No, I want to. I was a flight risk,” he admitted, voice tight. “I’d run away from so many homes and then I was homeless at that point, and when they caught me again they told me it was Stygga or a prison cell just to keep me from dying out there, and I took Stygga. There were 7 of us. Dasha, Axel, Cedric, Treyse, Kiyan, and Gaetan. They’ve all got issues, but Gaetan had it worst. Gaetan was taken from his mom at the age of 8, only after she’d gotten him hooked on liquidum and he’d started doing lines of fisstech.” </p><p>“Fuck,” Lambert said, grimacing. It wasn’t uncommon, he knew. Plenty of kids got fucked over that way. </p><p>“Yeah.” Aiden bit his lip. “So Gaetan has addiction issues. Bad ones. He’s been in and out of rehab since he was 18- he's open about it, he won't care if I tell you. Dasha managed to keep us all clean through high school for the most part. Just cigarettes and beers, mostly. But once Gaetan was out he started drinking really heavy, and then he started doing fisstech again, and then the liquidum followed. He’s really close with Dasha, and Dasha had the money, so he paid for rent on a little place and would get Gaetan food whenever he asked. He and Gaetan were at Stygga earliest, they’ve been around each other a long time- Gaetan’s the one who started the mama nickname. To mock him, at first, but it stuck.” </p><p>Lambert nodded, taking this all in. “So, you’re worried about him?”</p><p>“He’s only been out of rehab two months,” Aiden said quietly. “Which is usually when he falls off the wagon again. I miss him, Lambert, I miss my brother so fucking bad, but I don’t know if he’s going to be the person I want to see when he comes. I don’t know what he’s going to be like. It's been three years since we've seen each other in person. I love Gaetan so much, I love all of them so much, but I don’t know how you’re going to react to them or how they’ll react to you, and it’ll break my heart right down the middle if you hate each other.” </p><p>Lambert rubbed his thumb over Aiden’s knuckles, and Aiden looked at the table. The sunlight made the dents in the beat up to stand out, the random papers and Aiden’s laptop casting odd shadows. </p><p>“I want to meet him,” he said at last. “He should come. I don’t know what he’ll think of me, either, so. We should at least try, right?” </p><p>“You’re sure?” Aiden asked, looking up with big eyes. He looked so hopeful, and Lambert’s heart shattered a little. </p><p>“Yeah, of course. Dunno how the fuck it’ll go, but... Let’s give it a try.” </p><p>Aiden came around the table and climbed onto his lap, grabbing his face to kiss him, and Lambert let himself be distracted by the feeling of Aiden’s smile. He ignored the pool of worry in his gut entirely. </p><p>It was decided that Gaetan would come up from Ard Carraigh for his birthday, which was the 14th of February. Aiden was by turns thrilled and stressed, and Lambert learned a lot about Gaetan over the next week while Aiden fluttered around the house in a frenzy of excitement and worry. </p><p>Gaetan was trans, and had started transitioning at 13 when he was placed with Stygga. He liked green and dark blue. He had some weird vendetta against clove cigarettes. He couldn’t drive, his license was revoked until he was 27 and could test for it again. He hated cilantro. He loved spice. He loved chicken parmesan. He had once broken a guy's nose for catcalling Aiden. He and Aiden had had a shoplifting competition for food, and Gaetan had somehow stolen an entire watermelon that they ate in a park and almost got away with it except Dasha spotted them and had lectured them for three hours straight before making them go back and pay for it. (Lambert, personally, was of the opinion that if someone could figure out how to steal an entire watermelon they deserved to just eat it.) Gaetan was a dick sometimes, but sweet others, a little rough around the edges, but he clearly loved Aiden a lot and Aiden loved him just as much. </p><p>Lambert had known, logically, that Aiden hadn’t had a great childhood. But it was one thing to know something, and another to know the details. There was a lot that Aiden didn’t say that Lambert could read between the lines for. He left it be, and thought about it with Aiden asleep on his chest, carding his fingers through Aiden’s hair. </p><p>He wasn’t… intimate with Aiden’s body. He didn’t know it like he knew Geralt’s, from years of time together. He didn’t have a catalogue of Aiden’s wounds. But there were some things that he could see, and now that he was getting more of a picture of Aiden’s past, he found them more troubling. </p><p>Aiden had small scars, the kinds that Lambert knew to never mention, because he shared them. Cigarette burns on his upper arms, so old they were only found by feel- Lambert had them on his shoulders. A jagged old scar on the side of his hip looked like a bottle scar from thick glass, like the one on the back of Lambert’s leg. Small scars on fingers, from handling knives too young. And his feet… Well. Aiden was a dancer, yes, but his feet were usually covered by socks or stockings, or even slippers for ballet. Aiden didn’t like to keep his feet uncovered unless they were in bed. They weren’t the worst Lambert had ever seen, but they were clearly wrecked, distorted from their natural form. </p><p>Aiden didn’t have pointe shoes. </p><p>Lambert had never asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. </p><p>The morning of the 14th, Aiden was practically buzzing with excitement and nerves. Gaetan was coming by bus, due to arrive about 10, and Aiden was up at 8. Lambert let him get changed four different times before groaning, “Aiden, it’s your brother, not the fucking Duchess of Toussaint, just <em>pick something</em>.” </p><p>Aiden emerged at last in black jeans, a comfortable dark green v-neck, and a red flannel, clutching his parka coat. “I knoooow, but-” </p><p>“We’re gonna be late, go get in the car!” </p><p>The inter-Region bus system had a different center than the regular transit lines, so they had to make a bit of a detour to a different part of the city to pick Gaetan up. The busses had just left when they parked, and Aiden scrambled out of the car to bound towards the main building, scanning through the different people standing outside with wide, nervous eyes. Then his eyes lit on someone and he bolted. Lambert followed sedately as Aiden made a bee line for a man with a shaved head on a video call leaning against one of the pillars.</p><p>"Yeah, it was a breeze, weather's nice," he was saying.</p><p>Aiden barrelled into him, hugging him tight around the side, and the man grinned at the phone, rocking at the impact before settling again. </p><p>“And Aiden’s here,” he added. </p><p>Aiden beamed at the camera, laughing. “Hi Dasha!” </p><p>Lambert reached the pair and took a closer look as Dasha said something from the other end. Gaetan was about Aiden’s height, maybe a little shorter, with olive toned skin and high, strong cheekbones. His nose was long and stick straight, his jaw aggressively firm, and his eyes were a dusty green nearly hidden away under a strong brow. He had three lobe piercings, and a pierced eyebrow with a bar through it, and as he spoke Lambert could see the flash of a tongue piercing. He was dressed like an off-duty punk; loose green camo pants shoved into combat boots, band shirt with a few holes near the collar, leather coat tossed over a hooded, unzipped sweatshirt. A tattoo peaked out from his collar, the edges of a word Lambert couldn’t make out, and on the back of his right hand was a snarling cat’s head. A beat up backpack sat by his feet. He was built light but sturdier than Aiden, and there was an air about him that suggested picking a fight was a bad idea. </p><p>Lambert rather liked him. </p><p>“We’ll call back soon if the others don’t call too,” Gaetan said, and Aiden waved as they ended the call. Gaetan shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed Aiden tight in a hug, lifting him easily off the ground and spinning to make him laugh. “Fucking <em>shit</em>, you finally grew up, look at you.” </p><p>“I missed you so much,” Aiden beamed, and when Gaetan set him back down he threw an arm around Gaetan’s shoulders. “Gaetan, this is Lambert, my very unexpected husband. Lambert, my next oldest brother.” </p><p>“Glad to meet you,” Lambert said, offering his hand, and Gaetan took it. He had a grip like a vise, but Lambert didn’t bother testing it. He had nothing to prove. </p><p>“About time one of us met you,” Gaetan said, eyeing him. “Aiden’s been a bit tight lipped on the details.” </p><p>Lambert grimaced. “In our defense, we were drunk,” he said dryly, and Gaetan barked out a laugh. </p><p>“Yeah, I saw the pictures,” he said as they started heading back to the car. “Kiyan keeps forgetting your name and just calling you “Legs”, so wear that black dress if you meet him, he’ll be fuckin’ thrilled. Brat, you still graduating?” </p><p>“In May,” Aiden confirmed. “You’re coming, right? We want to have a whole big family thing, I want everybody there.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Gaetan said, ruffling his hair. “Look at you, graduating, fucking amazing.” </p><p>They climbed in the car, Aiden twisting around in his seat to keep talking to Gaetan. “We got so lucky with the apartment, and I’ve cleaned up the spare room for you.” </p><p>“No need, I got a hotel,” Gaetan said, grinning at him lopsided. “It’s my birthday, brat, I have every plan to go get laid and I’m not bringing rando’s from some club back to fuck in your house. I should probably go check in anyway.” </p><p>“Oh!” Aiden deflated, just a little, but perked back up. “Yeah, what one is it?” </p><p>“North Kaedwen Economy Inn, only the classiest for me.” </p><p>“Amazing.” </p><p>They detoured to the motel so Gaetan could drop his stuff off and check in. It wasn’t much to look at, an aged and uncomfortably sized two story set of buildings with varying degrees of rust, but it was mostly clean and in an alright part of town. Gaetan tossed his bag under the bed of room 113 and they left again, headed to the apartment. </p><p>Gaetan whistled low and long when they stepped inside, looking around. "Oh how the meek have risen, damn. Look at all this space."</p><p>"We got a <em>really</em> good deal on the rent," Aiden beamed, and Lambert felt himself smile as Aiden ran out to the middle of the room and spun with his arms out. "I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to move, really, it's perfect." </p><p>The sunlight was dancing across the floor, spilling over Aiden’s socked feet, and for just a moment Lambert wanted to go and grab him, pull him into a dance. He was beaming and brilliant, eyes crinkled at the corners and his dark curls spilling onto his shoulders, and fuck, he was just beautiful. The best mistake Lambert had ever made, and no mistake at all. What a wonder he was. </p><p>Gaetan was watching him too, thoughtful and his eyes a little narrowed, and Lambert could take a hint. He went over to Aiden, catching his hand, and Aiden turned to him with a bright, easy smile.</p><p>Lambert leaned in and kissed his temple, making Aiden’s smile go from bright to dazzling. “I’m going to go hide in the bedroom so you two can actually talk comfortably without me hanging around,” he said, and Aiden nodded. “Shout if you need anything. I might have to come out and grab food at some point.” </p><p>“Alright,” Aiden said easily, grabbing his face to kiss him properly. “Thanks, love.” </p><p>“Of course.” Lambert nodded to Gaetan, who was looking startled, and beat his retreat. His bedroom was quiet, and when he shut the door he heaved a sigh of relief. Socializing was hard on the best of days, and Gaetan was obviously wanting to talk to Aiden privately, this would work out for all of them. His bedroom needed tidying anyway. Brimming with nervous energy he started straightening things up. </p><p>Despite the closed door, he could hear fragments of conversation, and hesitated in his frantic gathering of papers to listen. </p><p>“-let you,” Gaetan was saying. </p><p>“He doesn’t <em>let</em> me do anything, Gaetan, I live here too. He doesn’t own me just because we’re married.” </p><p>“We both know how it works-” They moved away, and then must have moved back, because Gaetan was saying, low and insistent, “-would help you leave, if you need.” </p><p>“I know he would, I don’t have anywhere I want to go! I just… He’s good to me, Gaetan. I know it’s hard to believe. He’s really, really good to me.” </p><p>“And he’s not just making you kept?” </p><p>There was an awkward pause. Lambert felt himself blushing. </p><p>“We, um. We haven’t actually. Fucked.” </p><p>Another long pause. </p><p>“What.” Gaetan sounded flatly incredulous. </p><p>“We haven’t, okay?! He’s… he’s not ready. It’s not for lack of trying on my part, you’ve seen his legs. We both want to but it just hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t been right. I’m not going to push him. Can we talk about anything that isn’t my sex life? Literally anything else.” </p><p>“Sure. How’s your grades?” </p><p>“<em>Gaetan</em>!” </p><p>They walked away again, and Lambert went to the bed, pulled the covers and a pillow over his head, and screamed faintly into the mattress. </p><p>When he’d managed to calm down, he returned to cleaning up. Unfortunately, it only took so long, so after a few moments of dithering he reorganized his closet, made the bed, actually installed his laptop and desktop updates, and then stood in his very orderly room wondering what to do. </p><p>Bizarrely, he wanted Catrine. He also wanted food. </p><p>Neither of these things were immediately available. </p><p>Lambert dithered for a moment before groaning and sticking his head out of the bedroom. “Aiden?” </p><p>“Yeah?” Aiden called back. </p><p>“I need food, this is your warning.” </p><p>Aiden laughed, and Lambert went to the kitchen. Gaetan was leaning against the counter, the pair of them clearly having been talking about something more serious, so Lambert dug out some of the granola bars he kept for late night hunger as quickly as he could. </p><p>“Is the large Catrine in your room?” he asked Aiden. </p><p>“Yeah, did you want her?” Aiden asked, reaching over to catch his hand, a quiet urge to slow down. Lambert nodded, letting himself breathe, and Aiden gave him a small, reassuring smile. It was okay. This was fine. “You’re allowed to get her. I left the door unlocked.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Lambert said, and nodded to Gaetan, who gave him a thoughtful nod back, before fleeing. He gathered Catrine from Aiden’s bed and brought her back to his room, diving back under the covers and crushing her tight to his chest. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Lambert buried his face in Catrine’s soft, plush body, and breathed. Maybe Aiden had the right idea about stuffed toys. Catrine was oddly soothing, and he didn’t have access to hugging Aiden right now even though he badly wanted to. He needed a distraction. He had two papers due, he could work on those, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to focus enough to get any real progress done. He had cleaned his room, and while he could clean the bathroom, that didn’t exactly sound like the most fun he’d ever had. </p><p>Lambert pulled out his phone and stared at his contacts for a while before calling Jaskier. </p><p>Jaskier picked up on the third ring. “If you aren’t calling to apologize, I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped, and Lambert recoiled a little, startled. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Jaskier paused. “Oh. Shit, sorry, I just got done talking to my darling father, I thought you were him calling back. Hi, Lambert! You’re a much better conversation partner. Please talk to me about anything that isn’t about my failures as a person.” </p><p>“Damn.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Jaskier laughed, but it was brittle. “He found out I’ve been selling songs and was mad about it. The fact that I’m not planning a career as a classical instrumentalist is a flaw, apparently. Music could be forgiven if it was at least classy, but daddy dearest is mad about pop again, what else is new.” </p><p>Lambert rolled onto his back, one arm still safely around Catrine. “I didn’t know you were selling songs.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m not happy about it exactly, but it’s making a good bit of money and getting my foot in the door,” Jaskier said, brightening. “Once I’m done with my masters I’ll be free to actually start making music like I want, not just things for other people. I think they might offer me a continued teaching position though, so that’s something.” </p><p>“Good for you,” Lambert said, and meant it. “I, uh. I wanted to talk to you about something.” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>Lambert sighed, staring at the ceiling. “One of my in-laws is here. And I don’t know how to make friends with him.” </p><p>“Oh. That’s… yeah.” He could hear some background noise, and then a door shutting. “I was terrified of you all when Geralt brought me home. I thought for sure you’d hate me and want me to leave and never see him again, because he’d had Yennefer first, but you just… welcomed me. So. That’s what I think you should do. Give him space to be welcome.” </p><p>“I think he might hate me.” Lambert fiddled with one of Catrine’s floppy paws. “And usually I wouldn’t give a shit about that, but I’m trying. For Aiden. Aiden’s family’s important to him, I want this to work out. And he seems like a really fucking good person, he was so determined to get Aiden away from me if I was a shit husband.” </p><p>“Lambert, your bar for what makes a good person is so far underground radar can’t detect it,” Jaskier groaned. “Anyway, that’s good to hear at least. My family didn’t care at all. They would have just said “I told you so” and mocked me.” </p><p>“Jaskier, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this recently, but I fucking hate your family.” </p><p>“They’re not the best.” </p><p>Lambert sighed, squeezing Catrine. “So. Give him space, and just… try. I guess.” </p><p>“Exactly.” Jaskier laughed. “Lambert, you’re going to be fine. I’m sure he wants to get to know you too. It’s going to be okay.” </p><p>“Fine,” Lambert groaned, and when they’d said their goodbyes he hung up and hugged Catrine tight.</p><p>“Catrine, this sucks,” he informed her, and lifted her up to look at her cheery face. “I hate everything about this.” She continued to smile, her face frozen. “Fuck, you’re right, that’s a lie, I just really want this to work out. He’s kind of cool, huh? Kind of a badass. He seems tough. He kind of makes me think about other hunters. Slap some swords and a medallion on him and he’d be a great hunter. Maybe a Cat, what do you think?” </p><p>Catrine, stunningly, declined to give her opinion. </p><p>“Yeah, Cat, definitely. He’s already from Stygga.” Lambert sighed, and let her drop onto his chest again to hug, burying his face in her soft body again. She smelled like Aiden, wonderfully soothing, and he curled up around her to wait until he couldn’t bear it any longer. </p><p>He made it until 4:30, watching videos on his phone, showering, sharpening his swords and knives, and doing a full redo of his filing system before he couldn’t take it anymore and slunk out of his bedroom in search of food again. He rounded the corner into the kitchen, glancing out the windows. Aiden and Gaetan were out on the balcony with their coats on, standing together and leaning on the railing as they looked out at the snow covered mountains and valley. Lambert stopped to look at them, taking in the sight of them together. </p><p>They were so different, but it was obvious how much they cared for each other. It was the small things that he recognized with Geralt and Eskel too; the way they moved around each other, always aware where the other was in their orbit, handing things over with it taken for granted they’d be accepted, the casual intimacy of touch. There was no more a shared drop of blood between them than Lambert and his brothers, but they were siblings all the same, and it was obvious how much they loved each other. Aiden laughed at something Gaetan said, leaning in to knock their shoulders together and. Huh. </p><p>Lambert blinked. They were smoking. </p><p>Since when did Aiden smoke? </p><p>But that was definitely a cigarette in his hands and Gaetan had one as well, and frankly, it wasn’t his business. They looked comfortable, and Lambert wasn’t going to impose on that. </p><p>It nagged at him as he dug in the refrigerator for the other half of a sandwich he’d made yesterday. Aiden looked completely comfortable with a cigarette in his hand, and as far as Lambert knew he didn’t smoke now, so, maybe he used to? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned it? </p><p>Why would he <em>have</em> mentioned it? </p><p>“Fuck,” Lambert muttered, and put the sandwich back. If he was hungry, they probably were too. He didn’t really want to cook, so maybe they could head out to one of the weird, kitschy little restaurants that Aiden loved to go to with his friends. That would be fine, right? There was that one that made great chicken parmesan. Steeling himself, he opened the door to the balcony with plenty of noise to warn them, and the pair turned. </p><p>“Hey,” Aiden said, smiling at him. Gaetan looked marginally more relaxed than before. “What is it?” </p><p>“I was just thinking,” Lambert said, “do you want to cook or go out for dinner? I don’t know what you’ve talked about, but Lombardo’s should still be open for slots. It’s a little early, but...” </p><p>“Sounds fancy,” Gaetan drawled, taking a drag on his cigarette, and Aiden snorted. </p><p>“Not at all, they just get so slammed you have to call in advance to reserve a seat. They’re a glorified diner, they’re working on expanding. OH, they have really good chicken parmesan though.” Gaetan’s eyes lit up with hunger, and Aiden cackled. “Gods, you’re so predictable. Lamb, would you call?” </p><p>“You got it.” </p><p>Lombardo’s did still have three slots open, so they piled in the car once Aiden and Gaetan had finished smoking and headed to the restaurant, parking a good four blocks away thanks to a busy Friday evening’s traffic. It was packed, as expected, and Gaetan looked around in interest as they squeezed through the door into the space. The building it was in had once been a tavern, centuries ago, and the exposed beams and whitewashed walls were a Kaedweni classic. A harried waitress greeted Aiden by name and shuffled them to a booth with tall, straight backed wooden chairs and rushed off, another rushing over with silverware and water glasses who also said hi to Aiden and then fled, and a third emerged, said hi to Aiden, gave Gaetan a thorough once over, and dropped menus before fleeing. </p><p>“Well,” Aiden said as he flipped his open, “there’s your lay, if you’re interested.” </p><p>“Nah,” Gaetan said, grinning, “I’m aiming for a threesome or more, it has been a long fucking month. Those three seem to know you, though.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m in here a lot with friends,” Aiden said. “They have that ham and bean soup you like back on the menu, Lamb.” </p><p>“I’m getting the chicken parmesan,” Lambert said absently, “but they added to their hot chocolate selection again. The fuck is a jalapeno dream and why haven’t I had it yet?” </p><p>“You’re so weird,” Aiden sighed, and Lambert just smiled as Aiden’s foot hooked around his ankle from the other side of their table. “Gaetan, you should get the chicken parmesan too, it’s so good.” </p><p>“Nothing could stop me, but what the <em>fuck</em> is a Miscellaneous Catastrophe and why does it have five stars?” </p><p>“Ooh, I love the Miscellaneous Catastrophe,” Aiden said, delighted, and was in the process of explaining to an increasingly baffled Gaetan when someone called Aiden’s name. Lambert turned to see a group of theater kids piling in, all dress in the usual would-be artsy fashion of trying-too-hard arts department clothing. By sheer force of will, he didn’t groan. From the smirk Gaetan gave him, he didn’t succeed. </p><p>“Hi guys!” Aiden waved, beaming, and the small horde came over. </p><p>“Aiden! Hel<em>lo</em>, darling, how are you?” One of the girls crowed, bending down to exchange air kisses, and Aiden was immediately drawn into conversation, half introducing people as they swarmed around the table. Gaetan looked a little overwhelmed, but was mostly managing to keep up with the sheer volume. Lambert, long since known for his complete lack of interest in small talk, was mostly ignored, but Ashwood wriggled through the throng to squeeze in next to him for a second. </p><p>Ashwood was one of Aiden’s better friends, a pre-med student who really probably had better things to do than hang around with the batshit insanity that came out in the arts department but stuck around anyway, probably to make sure no one broke a limb. Lambert liked him marginally more than he liked most people, which was high praise anyway, though Ashwood seemed to have decided that Lambert was “nice”. Lambert wasn’t really sure how that mix up had happened.  </p><p>“Sooo, you’re Eskel Wilkson’s brother, right?” Ashwood said and Lambert groaned. </p><p>“Where did you even meet him- No, I don’t care. He doesn’t fuck most people twice in a six month period, but I can pass on a message.” </p><p>“Damn,” Ashwood sighed. “I forgot to give him my number. Tell him I said hi, and if he’s ever interested, I definitely am.” </p><p>“I’ll let him know,” Lambert said dryly, and Ashwood gave him a wicked grin before stepping back into the throng, giving Aiden a hug, and continuing with the group to their table. The waitress was looking murderous. </p><p>“What did Ashwood want?” Aiden asked as he turned back around. </p><p>“Eskel’s dick, what else is new in my life,” Lambert grumbled, and Aiden snickered. </p><p>“Ohhh, I heard about that. Eskel texted me after. They met while he was out clubbing, Deidre was at Geralt’s place for the night.” </p><p>“I’m going to kill him.” Lambert pulled a face, and Gaetan snorted. </p><p>“Who’s this Eskel?” </p><p>“My oldest brother,” Lambert said, fishing out his phone and pulling up a picture. “He’s a menace.”</p><p>“Oh, no, don’t,” Aiden started, but Gaetan leaned over to look at it and absently slapped a hand over Aiden’s mouth to shut him up. </p><p>“Hmm. Pity. He’s a solid four, too good looking for me. The scars are great.” </p><p>Lambert stared, offended on Eskel’s behalf, but Aiden licked Gaetan’s hand and Gaetan recoiled, making a face and freeing Aiden’s mouth again.  </p><p>“Gaetan here doesn’t think classical beauty standards make sense,” he explained dryly. “Gaetan basically thinks in reverse about looks most of the time, with a few exceptions. I’m a solid 2 to him.” </p><p>“And so’s Lambkins here, so you married well, good job,” Gaetan said. </p><p>“Fuck off.” </p><p>“Never.” </p><p>Lambert was fascinated. “So supermodels?” </p><p>Gaetan’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “If numbers could go negative on an attractive scale, they’d be down there. 0’s more or less across the board. I only like people with interesting features. Models with interesting features that would be called ugly by most people except for the PR? Great. Scars are best though. Your brother’s just too damn handsome under them, and he looks too nice.” </p><p>Lambert pulled out his phone. </p><p>Aiden groaned. “Lamb, no, do <em>not</em> tell Eskel my brother thinks he’s too hot to be fuckable.” </p><p>“Too late.” </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
yo my brother in law thinks you’re literally too hot to fuck </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
what the fuck<br/>
?????<br/>
Lambert<br/>
LAMBERT WHAT IS THE CONTEXT OF THIS</p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
Also Ashwood says he’s available for round two<br/>
so have fun with that<br/>
also be nice to him he deserves a good time </p><p>Text from: Goat Ass<br/>
oh shit can you give him my number </p><p>Text to: Goat Ass<br/>
I hate you so much</p><p>He put the phone on silent and set it face down on the table. Gaetan cackled, in almost exactly the same way Aiden did when he was really pleased about something, and the waitress finally arrived to get their order, looking frazzled. </p><p>“So,” Gaetan said when she’d left, “why are you staying with Aiden?” </p><p>His tone was light but there was iron under it. Lambert looked at Aiden, who was suddenly busy with his water glass. </p><p>“Because in the mornings, sometimes,” he said, not looking at Gaetan, “he does this thing, where he’ll roll over and shove his head under my chin, and whine until I hold him and shut off the alarms. And because at night he leaves the windows open while he practices, and leaves the lights on, and I can see him from a block away when I come home. Because he still can’t cook a decent curry since he won’t taste test them. Because he bought me a necklace. He makes me laugh, and dance, and he doesn’t push, and he’s just. There. Because he kept coming back. Because he told me he loved me before I could even believe we were friends, and never took it back.” </p><p>Aiden was biting his lip hard, and reached out across the table. Lambert took his hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles, brushing over the sterling silver ring. </p><p>“Because he gives me space to keep figuring out what that means.” </p><p>“You’re a sap,” Aiden mumbled, not looking up.</p><p>Lambert shrugged, squeezing his hand. “He asked. I’m not going to lie to your brother about you being the most important part of my life.” </p><p>Gaetan hummed, watching them with something that could almost be approval. “Not the most loved?” </p><p>Aiden looked up, eyes bright, and Lambert was back in that car in the dark, the windows glowing above them, the lights of the city far around them, back in the bedroom with the world quiet and still and Aiden safe in arms reach. Hundreds of little moments, tiny fractures and spirals against the fear that encased his heart in glass and ice, all of them joining together. </p><p>Lambert’s ring was weightless on his hand.</p><p>“There are things I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say,” Lambert said. “But I show in my actions. And I’m trying. I’ll get there. All I need is time.” </p><p>Gaetan nodded. “Good. Get there sooner than later.” </p><p>“Working on it,” Lambert said, and Aiden beamed at him, squeezing his hand before pulling away. </p><p>Their food arrived just moments later, and they all dug in. Gaetan groaned at the taste of the chicken parmesan, nodding his approval, and once they had their meal underway he said, “So, Aiden’s popular, huh?” </p><p>“I’m not popular,” Aiden protested. </p><p>“He’s popular,” Lambert confirmed without batting an eye. “At least as far as the arts department is concerned.” </p><p>“I’m not,” Aiden protested. “I know a lot of people but I only have some acquaintances, not that many actual friends. Popular means you have lots of friends.” </p><p>“Pretty sure that thundering herd back there all thinks you’re friends,” Gaetan pointed out, stealing one of Aiden’s fries and getting a growl for it. He bared his teeth back and Aiden glared, hunkering an arm around his plate. “Oh calm down, you actually eat enough now, one fry isn’t going to kill you.” </p><p>“Ask,” Aiden growled, and Gaetan patted his back. </p><p>“Fine, fine, I’m sorry. Look, here, have some to make up for it.” </p><p>Aiden reluctantly uncurled enough to take one of Gaetan’s cherry tomatoes in return, and settled down. Lambert, who hadn’t even realized that he and Aiden had never stolen from each others plates before, felt a few things click into place. </p><p>They chatted casually for the rest of the meal, though Gaetan seemed to be losing energy. By the time they left (Lambert making a detour to give a delighted Ashwood Eskel’s number) and stepped out into the cold air, he had gotten a little quiet. He pulled out a crushed pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, fishing in his pockets. </p><p>“Shit, I used your lighter at the house,” he muttered, and spotted a man smoking at the edge of a building an alley across the street just as Lambert did. “I’ll be right back.” </p><p>He jogged across the street to the man, who straightened up at the sight of him, and they seemed to strike up a conversation. </p><p>“So?” Aiden said, voice a little tight. “What do you think?” </p><p>“I’d like him anyway, being your brother, but… yeah,” Lambert said, looking away to focus on Aiden. “He’s not nice, but he seems like a good guy, and that beats nice any day. Maybe a bit prickly but we don’t know each other that well yet.” </p><p>Aiden nodded, biting his lip. “He’s lost his job. He told me this afternoon. He didn’t say why but I think he got in a fight with the guy who got it for him. I don’t think he’s going to stay clean much longer.”</p><p>He sighed, rubbing his forehead, and Lambert leaned in to kiss the top of his head. </p><p>“Hey, I don’t know how many times you’ve gone through this,” he said quietly, “but I’m here to listen if shit goes bad.” </p><p>“I just want him to have a nice birthday,” Aiden said, sounding quietly miserable. “He’s always so much more at risk on his birthday, it was the first time his mom made him do fisstech.” </p><p>“Well shit,” Lambert said, and was about to say more but Gaetan returned from across the street with his cigarette lit and hands in his pockets. </p><p>“Back to yours for a bit?” He asked. “And then you can toss me out to some club somewhere.” </p><p>Aiden smiled and took his arm, leaning on him. “Sure.” </p><p>They headed back down the street, and Lambert stayed on Aiden’s other side, away from the smoke. Vesemir had always been aggressively against smoking, and the one time Geralt had come back with the faintest smell on his clothes he’d been run ragged while getting a blistering lecture about the delicate nature of the human lung. Lambert had never bothered trying. The smell brought back ugly memories, and made the scars where his piece of shit father had put cigarettes out on him itch. </p><p>They got back home and Gaetan headed for the bathroom, leaving the pair of them alone again. </p><p>“You good?” Lambert asked quietly as the bathroom door shut. “I haven’t asked how you’re feeling about all of this.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m okay,” Aiden said, smiling, but it was a little drawn. “I just… It’s been a while, you know? Years. We’ve turned into different people, but we’re still the same, it’s kind of hard to get to know this new Gaetan. It’s good, it’s really good, but it’s. Rough. He’s been through a lot. And he’s upset about all of this, but I expected that.” </p><p>Lambert frowned. “What?” </p><p>“It’s complicated,” Aiden said, and stepped in close to wrap his arms around Lambert’s waist and press his face into his neck. “Hold me?” </p><p>Lambert hugged him, rocking gently from side to side as Aiden stood in his arms, just breathing. </p><p>“I haven’t been there enough,” Aiden said at last, very quiet. “I have to do better. I have to. Treyse is going to have a baby soon, and Kiyan’s hurting, and I don’t even know how to get in touch with Axel and Cedric while they’re locked up.” </p><p>“Axel and Cedric are locked up?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Aiden sighed. “In November they got tossed into prison in Mettina after that noble killed one of his servants and only got a slap on the wrist. They were in the protests, they got swept up in the nets and Cedric was stupid enough to fight back when someone tried to separate him and Axel. There’s laws about that, married pairs are supposed to be kept together because of some old bullshit laws, so they only got 6 months instead of two years. They’ll be out by graduation.” </p><p>Lambert nodded, unsure what to say. “That’s good, then. They’ll be coming up?” </p><p>“I hope so.” Aiden nuzzled against him. “I miss them so bad. I’ve tried to be strong and keep after my studies but I just, I miss them so <em>bad</em>, it’s been two years since I’ve seen any of them.” </p><p>Lambert tightened his arms around him, and Aiden made a sad little hiccuping sound as he held down a sob. </p><p>“We can go visit, over the summer,” he promised, chest aching, “anywhere you want, Aiden. We can go see all of them, or they can come here, I don’t care which. I can’t fucking imagine being away from my family that long, you shouldn’t have to suffer like that. We’ll go, okay? To all of them, whenever you want.” </p><p>“Thank you,” Aiden said, a little choked up, and stepped back. He rubbed at his eyes and cleared his throat. “Do we have beer? We have beer, right?” </p><p>Lambert glanced towards where Gaetan had gone. “Is that…” </p><p>“Gaetan’s never going to be completely sober,” Aiden said, heading to the fridge. “Manageable vices are the best we’re going to get. He smokes and drinks still. At this point if he’s not actively tripping on fisstech or shooting up with liquidum we consider him doing pretty good.”</p><p>Lambert followed him into the kitchen. “So about that… You smoke.” </p><p>“I used to,” Aiden said, fishing out three beers and cocking an eyebrow at him. Lambert shook his head, and he put one back, kicking the door shut. “I do sometimes when I’m really stressed. I haven’t since I got with you, though. I was...I was a mess in high school. I started smoking to keep my appetite down so I wasn’t so hungry all the time, and then when I started pointe I stole some of Gaetan’s weed for pain management. He was so fucking mad, gods, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed off. I smoked pretty heavily from the time I was… oh, 15? Started on the weed at 16.” </p><p>Lambert leaned on the kitchen island and watched Aiden pop the top of the beer bottle open. “What stopped you?” </p><p>“Kiyan,” Aiden said, and took a long drink. Lambert waited patiently, and Aiden set the bottle on the counter with a groan. “Ugh, I hate this brand, why do we keep buying it. Kiyan told me I either had to get my act together and get through school or he’d thrash me himself for wasting my chances. He was the only one left- Gaetan’s the same birth year as me but he was in Kiyan and Treyse’s year at school. He moved out about halfway through high school, so it was just me and Kiyan left, because Kiyan knew someone had to take care of me. And Kiyan wouldn’t buy anything for me and threatened every dealer in the area with a free castration if they sold anything at all to me- which, I should point out, he would have done, because Kiyan is fucking insane- so I had to clean up and be a good little boy.” </p><p>“You didn’t have a fake ID?” </p><p>“Gaetan took it with him when he left,” Aiden said, with a bit of a pout. “Rude.” </p><p>“Was not,” Gaetan retorted, coming into the room and swiping the other beer. He popped it open with the side of his thumb. “Did you a goddamn favor.” </p><p>“You’re a dick.” Aiden informed him, grinning, and Gaetan snorted. </p><p>“Never pretended otherwise, baby boy. Cheers, yeah?” He made a face at the taste. “Ugh, why do you buy this brand?” </p><p>“It was on sale and Eskel likes it,” Lambert said, watching the pair. Gaetan was moving almost oddly, and Aiden was eyeing him, a little tense. Something was wrong, and he’d missed it. “I was going to pawn it off on him when I went to sneak some experiments into his refrigerator. He still hasn’t figured out that Deidre’s been helping me.” </p><p>“Amazing,” Aiden drawled. </p><p>“He’s not the brightest bulb sometimes,” Lambert snorted, and Gaetan wandered over to go sit on the couch, the others following. </p><p>“What’s with the no furniture in here thing,” Gaetan asked, looking around. </p><p>“Practice space,” Aiden said, “No furniture to get in the way. And Lamb likes dancing with me.” </p><p>Gaetan looked at Lambert thoughtfully. "No shit. Did he tell you about how he learned ballet?"</p><p>Aiden flinched, very slightly. </p><p>“Not yet,” Lambert said, carefully. </p><p>Gaetan barreled on, mouth twisting in a hard little smile. "He watched classes through the windows and practiced in bare feet on a rooftop across from the studio until he could almost do everything right, for years, even after he came to Stygga. One of the other kids saw him one day, invited him in. Instructor told him off in front of all the students for being a creep, ripped him a new one, told him to demonstrate if he claimed he was there to learn. So he did. Did great. Guy was pissed, but the director saw and offered him reduced lessons for being a conniving little shit. Got us all into plenty of fights, because the fucker was thinking way above what any of us peons were ever going to get." </p><p>Aiden hunched in on himself. "You should have just let me take it." </p><p>"What, my delicate flower of a baby brother fighting?" Gaetan snorted. "I don't fuckin think so, baby boy, you had to keep your hands and face intact. You were the chosen one who was going to get out and do us proud. And then fucking Dunbarrow worked you til you broke, and up that fucking went in smoke.” </p><p>Aiden went stiff. “Gaetan.” </p><p>“What?” Gaetan said, definitely mocking. Lambert didn’t know how his mood had flipped so fast but he was getting tense. “Darling hubby there doesn’t know you’re damaged goods? You couldn’t fucking <em>walk</em> after he was done with you. He killed your career and almost killed you, you were a fucking wreck. There was a reason I left and took your fake with me, you were drowning in a bottle and <em>I’m</em> the only one who’s going to die of an overdose or alcohol poisoning in this family. I might be a piece of shit, but I wasn’t going to be an enabling piece of shit.” </p><p>Lambert’s brain scrambled as he put the pieces together, looking at Aiden. Lambert knew all too well how fast addiction could spread. The weed was one thing- living in a bottle was another, and Kiyan had just gone massively up in his estimation.</p><p>"Look at you," Gaetan said, mouth fixed in a bitter smile. "Delicate, artsy Aiden, who went and found himself someone to pet his hair and let him pretend he's anything better than gutter trash that happened to slither into money." </p><p>Lambert's fists clenched, but Aiden just said, quietly, "Gaetan, I did this on my own. He doesn't own me."</p><p>“Of course he doesn’t,” Gaetan said, almost mocking. “Pardon me for assuming, while you sit in this place with fucking <em>antiques</em> and share his bed and don’t even tell your damn family you’re married until two months ago. Did you even tell him about us? Or were you too ashamed?”</p><p>Lambert turned to look at him, shocked. Aiden’s eyes were fixed on Gaetan, his face wiped clean of expression. </p><p>“Two months ago?” Lambert said quietly. </p><p>“Leave it,” Aiden said, still not looking at him. “Gaetan, you’re a dick, but you’re only this much of a talkative asshole when you’re high. What the <em>fuck</em> did you take.” </p><p>Gaetan looked at him over the rim of his bottle, and drank without a response. </p><p>“Mother <em>fuck</em>,” Aiden hissed, eyes darkening. “You were buying when you went to get a light, weren’t you? How long?” </p><p>“Just today,” Gaetan said, and set his bottle on the coffee table with a final sort of tap. He stood up, swaying a little, and now Lambert was looking he could see how fucked his pupils were, all wrong for the lighting, the twitchiness of his limbs. “Can you fucking blame me? Kiyan’s rotting in that fucking suit while he tells about that piece of shit mage, Axel and Cedric are stuck in a cage, Treyse barely scraping buy, me without a job again. Dasha does everything he can while you dance and play. And here you are, with your friends and your husband and all your success, you think we aren’t jealous? I always knew only one of us were going to get out, but why the fuck did it have to be you, huh? We all deserved better. Why are you the only one to get it?” </p><p>Aiden’s eyes blazed, and he took a single, careful step forward. Lambert tensed, but Aiden just reached up and very gently cupped Gaetan’s face in his hands, looking hard into his eyes. </p><p>“Because you made your choices for me,” he said, harsh. “You all decided it would be me when I was 14, and told me I had to do it for all of us, to lift us out of that hellhole. You made your choice, and I have to live with it just as much as you did. You think I don’t want to die every time I see how shit my pay is? You think I don’t look in the mirror and hate it when I see all of this looking back? I know I don’t deserve it. You pushed and pushed and I did everything I could and it wasn’t enough. It never will be. I have to live with that shame. I failed all of you, and I’m sorry.” </p><p>Gaetan’s shoulders loosened, something like regret in his eyes. Aiden leaned in and kissed his forehead, eyes closed as he let it linger. Gaetan’s eyes squeezed shut, flinching against the gentleness.</p><p>“I love you so much,” Aiden said as he pulled back, his voice tight. “Get the fuck out of my house.” </p><p>He let go, and Gaetan just looked at him, now clearly regretting, but Aiden’s face was hard as stone. He nodded, once and headed for the door, grabbing his coat as he went.</p><p>Lambert would have felt better if it had slammed shut. Gaetan closed it gently. </p><p>The silence in the apartment was deafening. </p><p>“Aiden,” he started, reaching out for him, and Aiden flinched. </p><p>“Don’t,” Aiden said, jerking away from his hand. He wasn’t looking at Lambert, staring hard at the floor. “I know I’m fucked up, I don’t want to hear it.” </p><p>“That’s not what I- Aiden, please.” </p><p>Aiden shook his head, wrapping one arm tight around his waist. “I have to call Dasha and tell him Gaetan’s using again.” </p><p>He walked to his room and shut the door. Lambert stood in the middle of the room, feeling very alone and a bit stunned. The dark of late winter had seeped in through the windows, and the light in the kitchen felt small against it. Slowly, he walked over to the chaise lounge and sat down hard, burying his face in his hands. </p><p><em>You knew</em>, a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered. <em>You knew he wasn’t some squeaky clean perfect dream. You knew he was fucked up and it was going to come back and bite you both eventually. He told you it was ugly, and you can be mad all you want, but he warned you it wasn’t pretty. You could have asked. You could have pushed. You could have demanded. But you didn’t.</em> </p><p>And I’m not wrong for that, he wanted to argue against the voice. It would have been wrong. Trust was earned, not taken. It wasn’t like he’d been fully upfront about his past either. Aiden still didn’t know about the harpy attack that left the scar on his back, or much about his dad, or even his ma’s name. Aiden was doing well now, and it seemed like he’d avoided addiction. </p><p>And that was fine, wasn’t it? They both deserved their secrets. They both deserved a future unsullied by the past. </p><p>But. </p><p>The beer bottle scar on Lambert’s leg ached. </p><p>Lambert went to his room and into the closet, pulling out his phone. He burrowed down in his nest of blankets in the quiet dark, the only light from the fairy lights taped up as the phone rang. </p><p>“This is a surprise,” Vesemir’s voice said when he answered, and Lambert closed his eyes. </p><p>“Do you remember,” he said, his voice a little raspy and tight. “How I’d lie. All the time. About everything, for years.” </p><p>Vesemir was quiet for a moment. Lambert heard the faint creak of a chair. “Yes,” he said at last. “I remember.” </p><p>“I used to lie about what I wanted to eat. Or when. Or if I had. And you never once called me out on it. You just. You just took me at my word, every time, and I hated it, I hated it <em>so much</em>, I hated that you treated me like someone trustworthy,” he chokes out. “But you never questioned it. And then I stopped lying, and I was too honest about everything and anyone, because I got it in my head brutal honesty was best, and then Geralt thumped me on the head and told me brutal didn’t help wounds and I knocked that off.” </p><p>“Not to be grateful for violence,” Vesemir said, and Lambert could hear his smile, “but that was a thankfully short lived phase.” </p><p>“He was right to do it, he was so fucking right,” Lambert said, and pulled a blanket up over his head. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard with Aiden. But- fuck I haven’t been doing enough, Dad, I haven’t, I haven’t been giving. I’ve given him who I am now but we never talked about how we got here. And that bit me in the ass today. We both got hurt because of it. And I don’t know how to tell him all of it.” </p><p>Vesemir hummed. Lambert could see him in his minds eye, comfortable in his easy chair, those pink slippers on his feet and pink glasses on his nose, wrapped in a warm flannel and dressed in a shirt of a style popular centuries ago. He just <em>was</em>, a fixed point in space. “Don’t know who ever told you that you had to tell all your stories all at once, child of mine,” he said at last. “Leave some stories to uncover over time. You’ve got lives ahead of you, and one day you’ll run out of things to talk about. Who are you going to be, when you’re old and grey at the fireside together? What are you going to be talking about then?” </p><p>Lambert dragged in a ragged breath, trying to hold down his tears. “This is <em>so fucking hard</em>,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t think it was going to be this hard.” </p><p>“Lamb, you came into this marriage sideways and backwards to boot,” Vesemir said, so gentle it hurt. “It stands to reason that you’re starting to see the shape of it now. But you two… you’re going to be okay.” </p><p>“Are we?” </p><p>“You are.” </p><p>Lambert could feel the tears dripping down his face. “Aiden’s brother,” he said, voice thick. “He told me things Aiden wasn’t ready to tell me. He’s using again, and Aiden’s hurting and pushed me out, and I’m hurting because I didn’t know, and I just. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.” </p><p>Vesemir sighed. “This might not be your place to fix,” he said, and Lambert buried his face against the softness of the blankets as his heart ached. “Sometimes you have to let the other person fix it themself, and come to you when they’re ready. Some wounds aren’t going to heal up invisible. Some wounds don’t heal at all. Sometimes you’ll be changing bandages for a long, long time. And that’s not a bad thing, Lamb. Some days the dragon wins, but that doesn’t mean we have any less obligation to stand up and go tilt at it again tomorrow.” </p><p>Lambert couldn’t keep down the sobs anymore. Vesemir sat there quietly, listening and letting him work through it. He <em>hurt</em>. Everything hurt, and was overwhelming, and he was just so run down. He sobbed against the blankets, ragged and broken, all of it tearing out of him in one fell swoop.</p><p>When he finally had his breath back, he whispered, “Thanks.” </p><p>“Always,” Vesemir said quietly. “No matter how old you get, you’re still my child. I’ll be here.” </p><p>Lambert choked on a bit of a laugh. “Destiny made sure of that one.” </p><p>“That she did, little wolf, that she did.” Vesemir huffed, a half-laugh. “Ah, little one, I have plenty of regrets in my life but you have never been one of them. Never.” </p><p>Lambert smiled into the dark, eyes damp. “Not even that time Geralt and I tied butter wrappers on our feet to see if we could ski in the kitchen on them?” </p><p>“Well,” Vesemir said, barking a laugh. “Maybe then. That was a mess and a half to clean up.” </p><p>“Funny though,” Lambert said, and wiped away his tears. “Fuck, I’d almost forgotten all about that.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again. “And that’s… kind of the point, huh. It’s not just a shitty past. There were good moments too. Funny things. I can tell him those too.”</p><p>“That’s right,” Vesemir said, and Lambert sighed, sinking back into his nest of blankets. “You’re going to be alright.” </p><p>“We are,” Lambert agreed. “We are.” </p><p>He said goodbye and hung up, settling into the quiet warmth. Aiden probably needed space, and honestly, he needed to come down from his cry. The darkness took him, warm and soothing, and when he woke up he was disoriented. The world was quiet and still, the shelter of the closet and his blankets enfolding him. </p><p>Lambert fumbled for his phone, squinting at the time. “Shit,” he muttered, letting it drop on his chest. 10:02pm. He’d slept for at least two hours, closer to three. After a moment to reorient himself, he climbed out of the blankets and re-emerged into the apartment. Aiden’s door was still closed, so he went to check the kitchen. No signs of dinner having been made were there to be seen. Not shocking, honestly. </p><p>Lambert knocked on Aiden’s door. “Aiden? Hey, I… I’m going to make dinner, and then we should talk about stuff. Nothing bad, I just. There’s some things I want to tell you. About me. You okay with soup?” </p><p>There was no response.</p><p>He sighed, resting his head on the door. “I fucked up today,” he told the wood. “And I’m so fucking sorry. I need to do better by you. I <em>will</em> do better by you. Just. Can you give me a sign if you want me to make something else, or if the soup’s okay.” </p><p>Still nothing. </p><p>Lambert paused. The house felt… still.</p><p>“Aiden?” </p><p>Nothing.</p><p>His hand hovered at the knob, and then he grabbed the handle, pushing it open. </p><p>Lambert stared blankly into it. The bed, made with military tight corners and perfection, the Catrine plush sitting neatly in the center of the pillows. Clothes neatly hung up and put away. His little desk neat and tidy. Practice swords leaning safely in a corner. The lamp glowing softly, its colorful glass shade throwing strange shapes on the walls. </p><p>Aiden’s backpack was missing. So was the small line of figures he’d placed on the windowsill. </p><p>Aiden was gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi, I'm an addict. Gaetan's experiences come from some of mine, my family members, and some of my friends. Gaetan is not a bad person- he's struggling, hurt, and has never had a strong support system in place. I swear to you I'm not going to leave it like that. Gaetan is going to be okay. </p><p>Aiden's family is made up of deeply traumatized children who were forced to raise themselves and never got a childhood. That leaves deep, deep scars. Beginner's Guide is, at its core, about how you can start to heal when you're given the framework to do it by people who have already taken those steps for themselves. The Stygga family gets their happy endings, in time. I promise.</p><p>EDIT: oh my god I am a FOOL Ashwood is @concertconfetti's OC and is cameoing with permission, please go read Gideon's work Ashwood is a DELIGHT.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it."<br/>- Black Sails, XXXVIII</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Canon typical violence, discussions of child abuse, discussion of drug usage, Aiden's less than happy childhood including forced hospitalization to save his life in the past</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a brief, horrifying moment, Lambert thought he was going to be sick. He grabbed the door frame and clamped a hand over his mouth as his stomach roiled, but he managed to calm down and straighten back up. There was no point rushing things. He knew that Aiden wasn’t in the rest of the house, and with his backpack and the precious figures gone, he had definitely left it entirely. Lambert grabbed his coat and shoved on a pair of shoes, rushing down the stairs to check for any signs of where Aiden might have gone. The car was still there, and the sidewalks were free of snow or ice to give any impression or idea. He walked out to the road and checked the still-covered snowy strip of would-be lawn. Aiden’s bootprints were there, stomped back and forth and then vanishing. Someone had picked him up. </p><p>“Shit, shit, shit,” Lambert muttered, pulling out his phone and calling. He waited with bated breath as it rang, and cursed as it went to voicemail. He waited through it and after the beep took a deep breath. “Aiden, please call me back, I just want to know you’re okay. Please.” </p><p>He hung up and dithered for a minute. Aiden’s friends were the next bet, but he didn’t have any numbers. Coen might, but. Ah. </p><p>The phone rang four times before Eskel picked up, sounding harried. </p><p>“Hey, Lamb, what is it?” </p><p>“Has Ashwood called you?” He demanded as he headed back up the stairs. The night was dark, no moon in the sky, and this close to the Preserve and the griffin attack his stomach was tying into knots. At least he had Eskel well trained- it only took two times of Lambert arriving at his house to lecture him about actually answering his calls in front of very amused one night stands for Eskel to get the point and answer him immediately.</p><p>“Uh, you could say that,” Eskel said, sounding a little embarrassed. “Why?” </p><p>“For fuck’s sake- are you in bed with Ashwood right now?”</p><p>“For a certain value of in bed, yes,” Eskel said, entirely unrepentant.  </p><p>“Great, give him the phone.” </p><p>There was a pause. “Uh.” </p><p>“<em>Eskel Yosiah Satyason Wilkson give him the gods damned phone or I will piss on everything you love</em>,” Lambert snarled, and Eskel wisely handed it over. </p><p>“Uh, hi?” Ashwood’s voice said, very confused. </p><p>“Ashwood, Aiden’s vanished on me, can you text your friend group and see if anyone’s heard from him, and if he’s okay?” Lambert wrenched the door open. “His brother said some shitty things and it hurt him, he’s gone and run off and I just- fuck, I just need to know he’s safe.”</p><p>“I’ll ask around,” Ashwood said immediately. “Call back if you reach him, okay?” </p><p>“I will,” Lambert promised, and pressed a hand to his face, taking a deep breath. “I haven’t- I’ve been shit about getting to know all of you. I’ll try and do better.” </p><p>Ashwood made a soft, gentle sound, and Lambert hung up before he could say anything, guilt burning in his stomach as he paced. Aiden hadn’t ever pushed him to go out for more than a few drinks with his friends, and he had been reluctant to start with. He needed to at least know them better. </p><p>He went to Aiden’s bedroom and picked up Catrine, looking at her. She’d been in his bedroom, but had migrated to Aiden’s. He must have come in to get her. He’d been in the bedroom but hadn’t come to the closet door, hadn’t even said goodbye. How many times had Aiden run from places without any expectation of someone even bothering to look for him?</p><p>Lambert hugged her tight to his chest, heart hammering with dread. </p><p>Lambert’s phone buzzed after little more than five minutes, and he answered in a rush. </p><p>“Well?” he demanded, heart in his throat.</p><p>“Hey, it’s Ashwood,” Ashwood said. “I’m sorry, Lambert, no one’s heard from him.” </p><p>“Shit,” Lambert breathed, burying his face in his hands. “Shit, shit, shit. Thanks for at least looking, I’ll keep trying to get to him.” </p><p>“Good luck. Call me if you find him, please,” Ashwood said, sounding worried, and Lambert managed a thanks before hanging up. </p><p>It could be fine. It could be. Aiden was smart, he knew to stay away from the kind of places that monsters would congregate. It was cold, but he would have taken a coat. If he went anywhere it wouldn’t be far, would it? Surely not that far. He had school Monday. </p><p>The dread didn’t leave.</p><p>Maybe it would be fine. Maybe. </p><p>But how many people had ever gone after Aiden? How many people had sought after him, to make him know he was loved, to bring him home to somewhere safe and warm and made sure he was alright? Aiden talked about his life when he lived in the abandoned theater like he was a wild thing that had been captured, had run from so many homes with cruel false parents who had hurt him, and he had so many scars. And with Stygga, barely tended to by adults and forced to rely on people who were already barely getting by, had he been able to heal much? </p><p>The dread twisted and became a lump of pure fear deep in his gut. </p><p>He needed to find Aiden. </p><p>“Come on, Lambert, what was the point of all this training if you can’t make sure your husband who’s having an emotional breakdown is alright?” he muttered, and pulled his phone back out. “He can be mad at you as long as he’s alive to yell.” </p><p>Lambert cursed under his breath as he searched for the next number, jabbing it hard and shoving the phone to his ear as he wrestled on his Bear gear. The phone rang, and rang, and his heart was kicking up speed when someone finally picked up. </p><p>A tired, bored voice answered with, “North Kaedwen Economy Inn, how can I help you?” </p><p>“Hi, put me through to room 113, now,” Lambert said tightly. </p><p>“Sure,” the voice yawned, and with a click, the phone started to ring again. Lambert grabbed his sword belts. There was no response, and the line shunted him back to the front desk. </p><p>“Didn’t pick up?” the bored voice said. “I can take a message-” </p><p>“Send me through again,” Lambert demanded. </p><p>“Sure, dude.” </p><p>This time the phone rang twice before it was grabbed off the hook. Lambert could faintly hear thumping music in the background, the slick slide of flesh on flesh as Gaetan snarled, “I am <em>fucking</em> busy, who is this and what do you want?” </p><p>“Gaetan, Aiden’s missing,” he said, not bothering to hide the fear in his voice. “I need you to help me.” </p><p>There was a pause, and then Gaetan made a vague hissing noise and then snarled. </p><p>“Out,” he demanded to the people on the other end. “All of you. Now. I don’t fucking care, get <em>out</em>!” </p><p>There was a scramble of noise, and the music shut off. There were a few bangs as doors closed, and Gaetan waited until it was quiet to say, “What the fuck do you mean, missing?” </p><p>“I was giving him space after you left and when I came out of my room he was gone,” Lambert said, pulling on his boots and buckling down his straps. He had no idea where Aiden was but he wasn’t taking any chances when he found him. “He took his backpack and some figurines and statues he had in the windowsill, and I managed to track his boot prints to the end of the road, but I think he caught a taxi. His phone is still ringing through but he lets it go to voicemail.” </p><p>Gaetan groaned. “Fuck’s sake, that’s not serious, he just does this sometimes. Runs away from his problems when he’s stressed, it’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“We’re on the edge of civilization,” Lambert said, standing up and grabbing his bomb belt. “Right on the edge of the Preserve. He <em>knows</em> better, everyone knows better here than to be out in the dark alone. Last month I helped my brothers kill a griffin that stole a little girl from her front yard to eat. There’s plenty of monsters in the dark, and it isn’t safe for him to be out alone when no one knows where he is. None of his friends have heard anything. Fuck, can you at least try to call him? He might pick up for you if he won’t for me.” </p><p>“<em>Shit</em>, monsters, seriously?” </p><p>“What part of “monsters aren’t extinct” did you miss at school?” Lambert snapped. </p><p>“Fuck off. What’s your number so I can call you back?” </p><p>Lambert rattled it off and Gaetan hung up on him. </p><p>He managed to get a couple of moondust bombs put in his hip pouch before Gaetan called back. </p><p>“Straight to voicemail,” he said, tense. “Shit. You got Dasha’s number?” </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“Call him, see if he can get through. Kiyan’s sequestered until the end of the trial, no outside contact, so I can’t call him, and Treyse works nights, he can’t answer.” Gaetan sighed, and there was a faint sound in the distance like a lighter. “I’m too sober for this shit.” </p><p>Lambert snapped, “You being high was the problem in the first place.” </p><p>“Hey-” </p><p>“No, you’re going to listen. You,” Lambert said harshly, “have no idea how excited he was for you to visit. He was so happy. He loves my family, treats them like they’re his own, but he misses all of you so much it kills him. He just wanted you to have a single good day, that was it. Just wanted to see his brother. And you had no right to tell me that shit. I trust Aiden, I don’t care how long it takes him to trust me back. I don’t care if he never tells me everything, I don’t care if all I ever get to know is who he is now. He deserved to get to tell me on his own terms. I want to like you, Gaetan, I want your family in my life and I especially want all of you in Aiden’s. But you aren’t the only one who’s had a shit life, and I can live with a lot but all three of us deserve better than going through our trauma on loop. Bring that shit into my home again and we’re going to have a problem. Got it?” </p><p>Gaetan huffed. “You gonna keep me from Aiden?” </p><p>“Fuck no,” Lambert retorted. “Never. You love him, and he loves you more than he could ever say. I’m just asking you to act like it. Either learn how to keep your mouth shut or stay sober when you’re here.” </p><p>There was a long pause. </p><p>“You really won’t keep him away,” Gaetan said at last, and Lambert could hear the quiet fear now. “Not. Not even…” </p><p>“Your mistakes are yours to make and own,” Lambert said, the harpy scar twinging on his back. “Same with your successes. And gods all know, Gaetan, I’ve had my fair share of shit mistakes. I’m a bitter asshole with anger issues and I’ve got my own past to deal with. If I cut everyone out of my life for the mistakes they made over shit other people did to them, I’d be a hermit in the mountains. I will never keep you from Aiden. Never. I will never tell him to leave you. I will never tell him to cut you off. I will never tell him you are anything less than deserving of his love. But I have my own boundaries, and if you test them, I will not be anything close to merciful.” </p><p>More silence, and then, very softly, “You mean that.” </p><p>“I’m not in the habit of saying shit I don’t mean.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Gaetan hesitated, and then cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. When you find him. Tell him I want to talk to him. I’ll call.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said. “I will.”</p><p>“Thanks. Hey.” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>Gaetan huffed out a laugh. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but. If he had to marry any random guy off the street, I’m glad it was you.” </p><p>Lambert ran his thumb over the sterling silver on his left hand. “Same. I’ll tell you when I find him.” </p><p>Lambert hung up without a goodbye, and took a deep breath. Nothing would be helped by having a meltdown over that conversation, so it was time to take the next step to finding Aiden. He pulled out his gear trunk as the phone rang, flipping open the latches and pulling out a small box from a hidden pocket before closing it again. He needed to be prepared for anything.</p><p>Dasha picked up on the last ring. </p><p>“Now isn’t a good time,” he said without a hello, keeping his voice down. “If this isn’t an emergency-” </p><p>“Aiden’s missing,” Lambert said. “He’s left without leaving a note, I can’t get him to answer his phone and neither can Gaetan, and I’m afraid for him. Can you try? Do you know where he’d go?” </p><p>Dasha swore, vicious and so colorful that Lambert’s eyebrows shot up, impressed. He shouldn’t be surprised, given Aiden’s background, but Dasha curated such an elegant persona it was a little startling.  “I don’t know where he’d go now, but when he was younger he’d go back to the theater they caught him in. It’s in Raverlin, the Royal something. Royal Golden, that’s it. The Royal Golden Theater.” </p><p>Raverlin was close to their little city, the next large city between Ard Carraigh or Aedd Gynvael. Aiden could have made it easily on the Inter-Region buses, a pass would have been cheap. Damn Kaedwen’s meticulously well put together public transit and social safeties, ugh. This would never have worked in Redania.</p><p>“He left about two hours ago, I think,” Lambert said, grabbing his keys. “Can you call him?” </p><p>There was a shout in the background, and Dasha said, his voice tight, “Excuse me for one moment, I’m supposed to be working.” </p><p>There was a faint set of sounds, like he’d set the phone down, and Lambert started making his way to the car. Raverlin was a good hour by bus, thanks to the stops, but if he rushed and the roads stayed clear he could make it in about 30 minutes. By the time he was in the car, tossing his swords in the back and carefully putting the little box on the passenger seat, Dasha was back. </p><p>“Well,” he said, a little breathless, “shit. Rolan is refusing to let me leave, all I’ll be able to do is call once or twice.” </p><p>“Refusing?” </p><p>“Rolan thinks he wants to be in public office,” Dasha said, his voice still very quiet. “I’m supposed to be entertaining the mayor enough to convince him to be friends with Rolan. The joys of being a good host in Toussaint, ugh.” </p><p>“Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole,” Lambert said dryly as he threw the car into gear. </p><p>“I...Oh, no, not my boyfriend,” Dasha snorted. “Didn’t Aiden tell you? I’m a professional kept man. I'm functionally a decoration for bored rich men to flaunt at parties. I work on my back for a living, as the saying goes."</p><p>"Oh," Lambert said, a little startled. "I thought you were an art dealer or some shit like that."</p><p>Dasha snorted. "Hardly. Though there's at least two different nudes of me in the Cidaris National Art Museum. Starving artists love to drool over what rich men won't let them touch." There was another shout, and he sighed. "I'll see if I can reach him. Please… please tell him I love him, when you find him."</p><p>"I will," Lambert promised, and the line went dead.</p><p>Lambert pulled up the directions to the Royal Golden Theater and pulled away, his stomach tied in knots. It was a straight shot down the inter-region to Raverlin and traffic was light. About two minutes in he got a text, which his phone read aloud. </p><p>"Message from Dasha ap Stygga he didn't answer good luck," it said mechanically. "Please be safe."</p><p>Lambert gritted his teeth and pushed the car a bit faster. Hopefully there wouldn't be anyone patrolling this section of road right now. </p><p>He reached Raverlin in a record breaking 20 minutes, the old fortress looming up on a hill and the rest of the city sprawled out around it. He made his way through the winding streets to the far, ugly edge of the city. Crisp towering office buildings melted into cramped, squat brick buildings from the turn of the century, the streets growing grungy and more debris ridden. He turned into the least well kept section of the city. The houses here were old, mostly brick. It had been an expensive neighborhood at one point, but time had taken its toll and the wealthy had left a long time ago. The shape of that wealth remained, but the hollowed out manses had been repurposed for many more families. The parks were in good shape though, well kept up and tidy. It might have looked rough, but there was an aura of deep, abiding love over the place that spit in the face of its poverty.</p><p>The Royal Golden Theater was anything but royal or gold, and as Lambert pulled to a stop outside the battered chain link fence he felt his heart clench with worry. It was once a grand building, clearly, with three storeys and a facade that was pretending very hard to be neoclassical, but it was as run down as the neighborhood around it. There was a battered “For Sale” sign hanging on the fencing that looked to have been there for years, covered in graffiti, and around the big square box of the building was even more graffiti to about 6 feet high. Most of the windows were broken, and leaves, trash, and other detritus had gathered on the once fine steps up to boarded up doors. It wasn’t the best looking place. </p><p>A trio of kids on the other side of the road watched him get out of the car, and nudged each other as he grabbed his swords and bomb belt out of the back. He glanced around, and then beckoned to them. They swaggered over, eyes bright with interest. They had the too thin look of kids who’d missed a few meals, and all of them had skateboards and scruffy hair. They were also definitely out way later than they should have been. Two of them looked to be siblings, a boy and girl with the same pert nose, golden skin, and dark eyes under monolids that looked around the same age, the other a short boy with dark brown skin and soft curls with soft eyes. </p><p>“You a Witcher?” The girl asked, her eyes fixing on his medallion. </p><p>“Hunter,” he clarified. “Witcher lite. You know how to get in there?” </p><p>“Busted out window in the back, leads into the basement,” her maybe-brother offered, staring at his swords. “You gonna go kill something? Everyone says there’s a monster in the Royal.” </p><p>“Save someone from being killed, maybe do some killing while I’m there,” Lambert said, and strapped his bomb belt on. “25 to each of you if you watch the car and make sure no one makes off with it, another 25 when I get back.” </p><p>Three sets of eyes went wide. 50 crowns was enough to feed a lot of bellies, and he was willing to be free with his money. </p><p>“Deal,” Curls said, his voice mellow but cracking with puberty. “If the whatever in the Royal eats you in there, what’s the name for the body bag?” </p><p>“Lambert Wilkson-Kett,” Lambert said, and passed them all 25 crowns each. “My husband’s inside. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me to find him, so stay as long as you can.” He unlocked the car and grabbed out a dull silver tester rod from the jockey box. “Put this on my skin when I come out, and on my man. If the skin bubbles, run.” </p><p>The girl took it from his hand, nodding seriously. Her choppy black hair flopped around under her knit cap. </p><p>Lambert pulled out the small box from the front, and opened it after breathing on the lock. It snapped open, and he carefully removed a small contact lens box from inside. </p><p>“What’s that?” the maybe-brother asked, inching closer.</p><p>“Witchers have special eyes,” Lambert said, opening the lids after touching the runes burned onto the top of the holders, which flared in recognition of his fingerprints. “Hunters don’t, but sometimes we have to do work too. So about ten years ago, they started experimenting.” He carefully fished them out to put them in with his little audience watching. He closed his eyes and waited for them to settle and magically adhere to his eye, then opened them again. It might as well have been noon, for how easily he saw with the spelled contacts in. The kids recoiled in shock. </p><p>“I know,” he said dryly. “Freaky, ain’t they.” </p><p>“Yeah,” the tallest said, staring. “S’like real Witcher eyes.” </p><p>Lambert grinned, and they took another step back. </p><p>“Make sure no one takes the car, I want to go home some time tonight,” Lambert said, and checked the car mirror to make sure his eyes were good, just in case. The cat slit pupils and glowing gold were ominous in the darkness, but they were settled. Witcher Eye contacts were complicated pieces of magic that had to be custom made to each eye and were single use only. These had been a gift from Rennes when he got his medallion, and Lambert wouldn’t be able to afford another pair for years, if not outright decades. He had six hours of use before they dissolved entirely and his eyes returned to normal, and he intended to make the most of it. </p><p>At the back of the building he found the window the kids had mentioned, down a sunken flight of stairs that led to a door. The window was set into the wall, and would have been pitch black with regular eyes. With Lambert’s enhanced ones, he could see the ruins of what looked like a storage room, with a door open at the end of the room into more darkness. There was more graffiti here than even outside, including a frankly impressive spray painted portrait of a chort. He grimaced as he slipped through the window. The smell was horrendous. More than one unwashed body had been in here, and left their mark in the most human kinds of ways. </p><p>He slipped on careful, soundless feet into the hallway outside the room, and pulled out his silver sword just in case. Freeing the hunting knife Geralt had given him for Yule at his hip for a quick grab, he began the process of hunting for Aiden.</p><p>The underbelly of the Royal Golden was a rabbit warren of twists, blind turns, long hallways, and abrupt doors leading into mostly empty rooms. Chairs were rotting away or broken, and the endless chaos of graffiti was painted everywhere. The Royal Golden had been well explored long before Lambert came, and there was a thick layer of grime on everything. Water had leaked in from somewhere, leaving the whole place damp and reeking of mildew and mold, and the muck on the floor clung to his boots with every step. It was incredibly quiet, with only the faint sounds of dripping water somewhere echoing in the dark. Lambert stayed light on his feet, sword up to guard. With his eyes modified he was set, but he couldn’t imagine finding his way in the dark. </p><p>There was a soft rattle in the distance and Lambert froze, ears pricking as he tried to place the sound. It seemed to be coming from somewhere above and to the side, and… </p><p>The rattle came again, and he tensed. Much too much noise to be one slender human.</p><p>He picked up speed, looking into each room as he went, and this time he made double sure to check every corner as he went. Whatever was in the Royal Golden, he didn’t want to meet it in the dark and without backup. If he could get to Aiden, Aiden would be better in a fight than nothing. His muscle memory alone ensured that he was set up as a solid fighter. </p><p>He turned down a hall and froze when he saw a sliver of light coming from a cracked doorway. He carefully slunk up to it, peering inside, and sighed with relief when he spotted Aiden. Aiden was sitting in a small, filthy room that looked like it might once have held storage, curled up against the back wall with an equally filthy cat curled up in his lap, his phone’s flashlight on. His face was smeared with grime, his pants and coat equally filthy, and his backpack had been shoved on a dusty, rusted out table to keep it out of the muck. He looked up as Lambert came in, gasping and shrinking back. </p><p>“Woah, woah, it’s okay, it’s me,” Lambert soothed, sheathing his sword, and Aiden let out a ragged, broken sob of shock. </p><p>“<em>Lambert</em>?” </p><p>“Yeah, it’s me, I’m here,” he said, coming to Aiden’s side and kneeling down next to him. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” </p><p>“What’s wrong with your eyes- no, that’s not important. There’s something here,” Aiden whispered, tears running down his cheeks. “Lambert, there’s something down here with us, I heard it moving. My phone, the signal couldn’t reach- And then I found the cats- I don’t know what it is, I just hid, I don’t know how long I’ve been here.” </p><p>Lambert looked down at the cat on Aiden’s lap, and saw it was painfully small and thin, black and white splotched with big golden eyes. It gave a small, thready meow at him, and then a tiny head popped up from under its legs. A kitten, covered in grime, with the same yellow eyes and a calico coat. A few more heads appeared, five total with different coats, and Lambert gently reached down to stroke the young mother’s head. She gave another soft little cry and his heart melted. </p><p>“Only you,” he said, mouth quirking into a smile. “Dasha says to tell you he loves you by the way, and Gaetan wants to talk. Hey, little one.” </p><p>“She’s so young,” Aiden whispered, “and she’s so skinny. I think that’s the only way she avoided whatever it is out there.” </p><p>“We’ll get them out,” Lambert promised, and bit his lip. The medallion around his neck was heavy, the promise of the oaths he’d taken weighing down the silver. “Aiden. I have to go find out what’s here with us.” </p><p>“<em>What</em>?” </p><p>Lambert sighed, gnawing at his lip. “There are oaths you take, when you get your medallion. One of them requires that if there’s a monster threat to humans in a city, you deal with it and then handle the consequences. If there’s something in here, it might have already been preying on people outside, or people who came in.” </p><p>Aiden grimaced, eyes wide. “Shit.” </p><p>“Basically,” Lambert agreed. </p><p>“Love, what’s with your eyes?” Aiden demanded. “I know it’s not important but-” </p><p>“They’re contacts,” Lambert explained. “They’re adhered to my eyes to give me night vision, they’ll dissolve and disappear in a few hours. I wasn’t taking any chances. Look, I can send you out to the car to wait, but… It would be safer if you could come with me. I don’t know what the fuck is out there, and two fighters are better than one. Then we can get the fuck out of here if it’s too far above our pay grade.” </p><p>“Okay, but… We can’t leave them,” Aiden begged. “Please. Please don’t make me leave them when we go, I’ll- I don’t know what you’d want, but don’t make me leave them, it’ll be barely any time and then they’ll be old enough for homes and-” </p><p>“Of course they’re coming with us, Aiden.” Lambert gently stroked one of the kitten’s heads, heart aching. “We won’t leave them behind.” </p><p>Aiden sagged in relief against the wall, and then took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. What do we do?” </p><p>In the end Lambert gave him the silver sword figuring that if push came to shove it would be a bit safer and give him a bit of extra protection. The cat and her kittens were left on the only dry bit of ground they could find, and with Aiden’s slowly draining phone as their only light, they crept out of the room and out into the hall. </p><p>Aiden led the way through the winding corridors with ease, familiar still with the layout, though they were both tense and silent. The sounds were louder now, and Aiden led them up a short flight of stairs and into a dark, musty space. Lambert quickly covered the flashlight, letting just enough light leak around his fingers to allow himself to see a little bit more. </p><p>They had emerged out onto the stage, hidden back behind mouldering curtains, old wrought iron railings in a U shape around the staircase they’d come out of. It was massive, the wooden floor stretching an enormous length of space, and he could see out into the open space that had once held an audience. The building really had been spectacular at one point, with two mezzanines and several box seats, a disused chandelier still hanging high above. Paintings were likely hidden under the miles of old dust, and while plenty of the seats had been taken over the years, there were still a number of them left. </p><p>The sounds were coming from the pit, just beyond the stage edge, and Lambert’s blood chilled as he saw a tail and fragment of a wing. Hours and hours of work with bestiaries had made those shapes impossible to forget, and he carefully tugged Aiden back down the stairs and deeper into the darkness again, uncovering the light. Aiden’s hand was shaking as he held the sword, but his jaw was set. </p><p>“What is it?” he breathed, barely audible in the dark. </p><p>Lambert swallowed hard, licking his lips. “Basilisk.” </p><p>All the color drained from Aiden’s face. Lambert understood entirely. This was definitely going to be his biggest fight, possibly of his life, and Vesemir was going to strangle him for going into it with a man who hadn’t even been training for six months yet. But a basilisk in a city was a deadly threat, and not something that could be left. Lambert was willing to bet there were a number of dead bodies in the building by now, something that made his skin crawl. They had to try. </p><p>“What do we do?” Aiden asked after a tense moment. “Weaknesses?” </p><p>“They’re weak to fire, and they’re day hunters,” Lambert said, loosening up his bomb belt. He was relatively certain he had at least two dancing star bombs, and a quick check of the impressions on their sides verified it. “They’re sluggish in the dark and at night in the cold, we’ve got a bit of advantage. I’ll bomb it, blast it with fire, and get it trapped in Yrden, but we’ll have to lure it up onto the stage. They spit venom, so stay as clear as you can, and the claws are fucking vicious. Do everything you can to hurt it and slow it down, tackle the wings first to keep it from getting in the air. We have to do this as fast as we can.” </p><p>Aiden nodded, face set, and surged forward to kiss him. </p><p>“Please don’t die,” he said, and smiled, wobbly. “We haven’t even gotten to do our taxes yet.” </p><p><em>I love you</em>. </p><p>“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you to face the CHILD alone,” Lambert said, and took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll run out and lure it up. Follow me in, drop your phone so that we have some light, and then we’ll get to it. This is just about the worst possible introduction you could get to hunting, but… fuck it, everyone starts somewhere and this’ll be a hell of a story. Let’s go.” </p><p>They wound back through the darkness, hand in hand, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Aiden was shaking, but he went forward anyway, and with one last squeeze of Aiden’s hand Lambert let go, got his sword up in guarding position, and rushed the stage. </p><p>Two things happened, very fast. </p><p>Lambert emerged from the stairwell into the dark maw of the theater. The basilisk, alerted by sound and the vibration, leapt from the pit and onto the stage, spitting acid from the start. </p><p>Lambert narrowly dodged, swirling in, and slammed his sword in his first hit to the beasts shoulder before dancing back and calling Yrden to his hand. The basilisk screamed as Aiden came from the stairwell, his phone light shaking as he tossed it to the side by an ancient grey curtain that may have once been while. The light bounced on the curtain for added light, flickering on dust motes in the air, and Lambert thanked every tech genius who’d had the idea to put LED lights on phones before snapping Igni to his hands and tossing it at the basilisk. The flames caught on its feathers, sending it thrashing in the cage of Yrden, and Lambert caught a brief glimpse of Aiden’s terrified but determined face before Aiden managed to rip open a wing with a powerful swing. </p><p>“Back!” Lambert roared, and Aiden jumped away as Lambert lit up a Dancing Star and tossed it. He had just enough time to get Quen on Aiden before it blew, and he hissed as his cheekbone was clipped by a bit of shrapnel. It had done a massive amount of damage though, the basilisk writhing and thrashing. Lambert’s pitiful supply of magic, nothing close to Eskel or Geralt’s, was dwindling fast. He quickly lit the second Dancing Star and tossed it, turning his back fast. The basilisk shrieked, one of its legs now damaged beyond use and both wings wrecked. Lambert’s back took a bit of the shrapnel but the tough leather of the Bear coat saved him from any real damage beyond some nasty bruising. </p><p>He turned in time to see Aiden head forward again and leapt into the fray with him, blades slicing together. There was an opening, so fast, and he wasn’t close enough- Aiden slipped in tight to the basilisk, dodging a raising wing- they were <em>right there</em>, right on the edge, bracketing the beast, in perfect tandem. </p><p>(A moment, a lifetime ago- </p><p>He’s nine and watching Geralt move like water with Eskel, the pair of them a twin spiral of blades in the afternoon sun, Gweld a bastion of safety at his side, Vesemir prowling the edges of the field, and he thinks, <em>what if</em> as they move like two drops of water, side by side, a perfect complement, always where the other isn’t, high and low, back and forth, echoes in perfect harmony, and he thinks, <em>what if, what if</em>- ) </p><p>Aiden struck like a crashing wave, textbook perfect, blade gleaming in the dark, and severed the spine. The basilisk barely had time to go limp before Lambert swung his sword, and the head split from the body entirely. The head crashed to the stage floor in a spray of blood, rolling away, and Aiden leapt with a dancer’s grace and powerful legs as the massive body thrashed and rolled until it came to a halt and fell still in death. </p><p>The whole fight was no more than 7 minutes.</p><p>The silence in the theater was supreme, the only noise their ragged breathing, and Lambert straightened up and stepped away from the body.</p><p>“I love you.” </p><p>The words were out of his mouth before he could consciously realize he was saying them. Aiden froze, jaw dropping as he met Lambert’s eyes. </p><p>Lambert could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but it was far away, the diffused light of Aiden’s discarded phone reflecting on dust motes sending strange and marvelous shadows over his face. He was beautiful, so beautiful, on this vast abandoned stage with its basilisk corpse and dented wood where he once danced and lived, all alone. There was blood on his cheek and Lambert’s silver sword fit in his hand like a glove. In his dark pants, filthy shoes, hair disheveled, eyes massive in the false darkness, he was a masterpiece. </p><p>“I love you,” Lambert said again, because it bore repeating. “I love you.” </p><p>Aiden burst into tears, dropping the sword and running to him. Lambert tossed his aside, uncairing, and caught him in his arms. He was warm and solid, heart pounding triple time, and they were filthy and disgusting but Aiden kissed him hard and desperate anyway, holding his face in shaking hands. It wasn't their best kiss, but it was them, alive, together, and as far as Lambert was concerned it was one for the history books.</p><p>“I’m sorry I took so long,” Lambert gasped out when they pulled away. “I know this is a bad time-"</p><p>"No," Aiden insisted, fierce and beautiful. "No, Lambert, don't you ever apologize. It was right when you needed to say it, and that makes it perfect. I love you too. If you never say it again, I'll still know, and I'll hold that in my heart." </p><p>Lambert couldn't keep from kissing him again, for that, and when they finally broke apart Aiden's eyes were shiny in the light. </p><p>"Let me get you some claws for a trophy," Lambert said, rubbing his thumb over Aiden's cheek. "We'll get someone else to do clean up, but you should have some of the claws. It's your first kill."</p><p>Aiden went a little green. "Oh. Oh, I. I guess it is, isn't it." </p><p>"It's alright to feel bad about it," Lambert reassured him, keeping his voice gentle. "It's a lot to deal with, and these were shit circumstances anyway. " </p><p>"I think I'm just so shocked that it's kind of… passing by me," Aiden said, looking at the corpse. "But I might be sick later."</p><p>"I cried over my first deer for a long time," Lambert confessed, without shame. "And when you stop feeling the weight of what it means to end life, that's when you know you have a problem. Monsters, deer, cattle, it's all interconnected. It's not a bad thing- just a new awareness that you have for what life is." He took Aiden's hand and led him back to the basilisk, pointing down. "See how the blood shimmers a little? The clean up team will gather it with magic and purify it, and someone's tumors will get treated with it. The skin will go to strong, light leather that they use in the Preserves all over the continent to help manage sick wildlife that can be released again. The bones will become part of protection wards around the Kaer Morhen Preserve. The feathers will go to pens for use in court- you can't lie with a basilisk quill pen, they'll go to the most serious cases of abuse and murder. The beak, the organs, all of it gets used just like Andrea's griffin. This work won't go to waste."</p><p>Aiden nodded, reassured. "Is it okay to take the claws, then?"</p><p>"The claws are good for survival gear, but they're the only functionally useless part as far as secondary purposes go," Lambert explained, pulling out his hunting knife. "It's okay to take these." </p><p>He cut out the claws and found a thick canvas square in his inner breast pocket for just this sort of thing, bundling them up to be cleaned later and hanging them on his bomb belt with a tie string. Aiden had picked up both swords and his phone, and together they left the grisly scene to be swallowed up again by the yawning dark maw of the Royal Golden. </p><p>"Where did you live?" Lambert asked as they followed their tracks back down the hall. "Down here?"</p><p>"Only for a while in the summer," Aiden said, leaning against him. "Most of the time I lived up in the manager's office, which was on the second floor. It was hard to get to because of a beam collapse, so I wasn't bothered when urban explorers or curious people snuck in. I would hide when they came, or spook them into leaving. It was a nice little nest. There was a really nice soft couch with some, uh, questionable stains on it, but I found some nice old blankets and pillows, the windows still opened for fresh air, and there were all sorts of posters on the wall. I kept my clothes in a filing cabinet."</p><p>He sounded fond, but there was an undercurrent of sorrow. </p><p>Lambert licked his lips and then asked, "... How'd they catch you?"</p><p>Aiden's smile was a wraith in the dark. "Nets, on the stage. One of the people in the neighborhood saw me coming and going to hunt down food and realized I was living here. I was pretty much feral at that point. I don't think I'd actually talked to anyone more than to ask for a shower at one of the shelters in, god, I don't know how long. Months, certainly. I had started dancing at that point- ballet was the only thing that made me feel sane. It was part of my routine to go watch the dancers. There was a garden on the rooftop that I'd eat from. I was going through the steps on the stage when they caught me. A mage cloaked them. And then suddenly there were people, and I was caught, and they made me sleep."</p><p>Lambert stopped, his heart a lump in his throat. Aiden didn't look at him, just took his hand in the horrible grimed up hallway. </p><p>"I woke up in a cell," he said, halting. "They had to remove one of the bulbs from my light, it hurt my eyes. They kept me in the cage for three days, with an IV and a tube and stuck me with lots of needles because I was so. I was. I was very sick by then. I was dying. I didn't know that, of course. They kept me drugged so I wouldn't try and fight, and the nurses were very gentle with me. Very careful. I. It was. A while before I. Could talk. Again. They took me outside when I was better. I met people. It was for head sickness. Um. Mental illness. I was there… I don't know. A while. I got a little better. I told them about. About the people before. They- no, I don't want to tell you about them, you'd. You'd kill them and I'd be grateful and I don't want human blood on you. It was bad. It was really, really bad. They said, Stygga or a stay in a place like this, and I didn't know what a Stygga was. So. Dasha came to meet me, with Kiyan. And Stygga owners, but they didn't matter. Kiyan. He. Doctors are not good, but he wanted me safe. Didn't know me. He promised they would watch out for me. So. I went." </p><p>His hand was squeezing so tight Lambert could feel his bones protesting, but he said nothing. </p><p>"It was hard," Aiden choked out. "I had to learn… so much. Reading. Math. How to talk. Not to scavenge. Not to steal things. We were alone. Just kids. No adults. Dasha mothered me, that. That helped. I had family. I was… I was loved. They loved me, no questions. I would do anything for them. I ran and came back and ran and came back and Kiyan would yell and hug me, and I worked. I worked so hard to make them happy. To get them a better life. They gave me one. I had brothers. I had care. I." </p><p>He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. </p><p>"I am loved," Aiden said, deep and firm. "I am loved. And cherished. And nothing can take that from me." </p><p>"No one," Lambert agreed, and together they made their way back to the room. Aiden sighed with relief when he saw the cats still curled up safely together, and grabbed his backpack to pull it on. </p><p>"You… haven't changed your mind about the cats, right?"</p><p>"Not a chance," Lambert said.</p><p>Lambert bent down, gently scooping three of the babies up, and opened his coat to tuck the squirming, filthy kittens inside. The other two were added, and he buckled it mostly shut as Aiden picked up the mama, who was purring so hard she was physically shaking with it. Lambert took the unsheathed swords with him, carrying them carefully since it wasn't safe to sheathe them until they'd been cleaned and he'd been cleared by the courthouse.</p><p>“I don’t think she was a street cat,” Aiden said as they left finally left the basement, holding her close to his chest. “I think someone dumped her. She meows.” </p><p>“What?” Lambert said, baffled. </p><p>“Cats only meow at people if they’re taught to, to get our attention,” Aiden explained, stroking the soft head of his purring bundle. “Like babies cry. The little ones, the kittens who get raised by humans, they can’t talk so they do their best to tell us we need to help them. And humans, we… we stop crying when no one comes to help us. Like kittens who never meet people.” </p><p>Lambert stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed. “That. That happens?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Aiden said, gently petting the cat’s head. “Sad, isn’t it?” </p><p>“Fucking tragic,” Lambert said, with a lump in his throat. Aiden looked up to meet his eyes, and they were welling with tears. Lambert immediately went to him, pressing their foreheads together. </p><p>“You came,” Aiden said, his breath hitching and his voice cracking. “You. You found me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave, I just. I didn’t know what to do, I was hurting and I had all these old bad memories, I didn’t mean to make you come all this way-” </p><p>“It’s never too far,” Lambert promised, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him close after switching the swords around to hold in one hand, the cat safe between them as Aiden’s tears left new tracks down his grime covered face. “It’s never too far, Aiden. I wanted to trust that you’d come back, but- but that’s it, isn’t it? That you had to come back. That no one went to you, instead, you had to go to them.” </p><p>Aiden nodded, a fresh wave of tears pairing with a sob. The kittens squirmed in Lambert’s coat but he didn’t move. </p><p>“No one’s ever come for me,” Aiden whispered. “I didn’t know people would.” </p><p>Lambert closed his eyes, heart aching. It took him a moment to find the words, but slowly, carefully, he said, “When you tell me you’re hungry, I take you at your word, because that’s how I was brought up. We’re honest with each other, blunt, just say what we need and expect everyone else to help us. If Eskel had left I would have known he needed space. But no one’s taught you how to ask, yet. No one taught you to trust that there’d be help there. You didn't have Eskel and Geralt to celebrate finding you when you ran. So I had to come. I had to, to show you I would be there even if you were hurting.” </p><p>Aiden took a deep, shuddering breath. “Please,” he whispered. “Please keep teaching me how to ask.” </p><p>“Every day,” Lambert promised, closing his eyes. “Every day, Aiden, I will.” </p><p>They made their way back to the front of the building, where the kids were leaning on the car. They all rushed back around the side of it when they saw the two of them coming from the dark, but the girl squared her shoulders and came around with the testing rod held in front of her in a slightly shaking but determined hand. </p><p>“You said,” she said firmly, and Aiden blinked at the trio, baffled. </p><p>“Lamb, what’s going on?” </p><p>“I needed some people to watch the car. They’re just going to test and make sure we’re human. It’s okay,” Lambert said, pulling back Aiden’s sleeve for him and leaning the swords against the car. “Go ahead.” </p><p>The girl gingerly touched him with the silver, with no response, and, a little bolder, touched Lambert’s hand. When nothing happened, all three of the kids sagged in relief. They all then jumped when one of the kittens poked its head from Lambert’s coat and meowed, loud and demanding. </p><p>“Oh holy shit, kittens!” the maybe-brother said, and they all immediately crowded in close again. </p><p>“Aww, they’re so little,” the curly haired boy cooed, and Lambert carefully removed them one by one for the kids to hold while he fetched the milk crate that usually corralled his emergency equipment out of his trunk to keep the kittens safe during travel. They could stay with their mother at Aiden’s feet. The kids all gently petted them while Aiden held onto the mother, talking with them quietly, and once Lambert had his emergency blanket at the bottom to make a nest for them he carefully took each one and set them inside the box. The mother joined them without a fuss at the small space, a spare towel was put down in the back seat for the bloody swords to rest on, and Lambert fished out his wallet to give them the rest of their money. </p><p>“Listen,” he said quietly, “I’m going to give you three a number to call on Monday afternoon. Call and tell the person that you’re calling to claim the bounty on the basilisk from the Royal Golden Theater, per right of information by Lambert Wilkson. The money will be split between the three of you, and go into accounts you’ll have access to when you turn 18. I’ll need your names for the paperwork.” </p><p>The kids eyes widened, and they looked at each other and then back at him.</p><p>“You weren’t supposed to kill it?” Curls said, hushed and wide eyed. </p><p>“I was,” Lambert clarified. “Do people go missing here sometimes?” </p><p>They nodded, Maybe-brother looking haunted. </p><p>“We lost Calvin not that long ago,” the girl said, biting her lip. “He was coming back from the courts, and just. Gone. And homeless guys, they vanish a lot. We thought they all mighta got snatched.” </p><p>“Maybe, but I think it was the basilisk,” Lambert said, and the kids all recoiled in horror. “Yeah. It would have attacked Aiden if it found him, and anyone else who went in there. I had every right and a responsibility to kill it. I have to go and present my swords at the courthouse and swear before a mage that I did it for the right reasons and wasn’t just hunting to hunt, but I don’t want the money from this.” </p><p>“You don’t even know us,” the girl said, her eyes big. “Why?” </p><p>Lambert looked at Aiden, filthy and quiet in the car, looking down at the cats. “Aiden, my husband. He lived in the theater for a year when he was a little younger than you. He could have died at any time, with a basilisk there, but eventually he got a way out. Basilisks are big money bounties. Go to school, buy a house, get a nice career a long way from here money since they’re so rare. Who knows what he would have been if he got out sooner? If nothing else, you’ll be able to help your families.” </p><p>The girl straightened up as the two boys stared, jaws dropping. </p><p>“What if I want to do that,” she said, nodding at his swords. </p><p>“Kaer Morhen Preserve always needs volunteers,” he said, smiling wryly. “It’s hard, ugly work. And some days you don’t get happy endings like this. I could have easily lost my husband or my life today.” </p><p>“I don’t think I’m getting a happy ending anyway,” the girl said, and cracked her knuckles. “I wanna <em>fight shit</em>. I’m Dragonfly Dairida, and this is Oleander Dairida, my brother.” </p><p>“Schrodinger Merrill,” Curls said, and tentatively offered a hand to shake before seeing the blood. “Oh, right, sorry.” </p><p>Lambert had them write their names and phone numbers down and thanked them again before climbing into the car. The trio watched them go, and Aiden looked in the rear view mirror to watch them back until they turned a corner and were gone. </p><p>“Now what?” he asked, and Lambert took a deep breath, tightening his hands on the wheel.</p><p>“Now we go to the Regional Courthouse back home,” he said, “and I give testimony in front of a mage to make sure I don’t get shit for not doing my paperwork.” </p><p>Aiden frowned. “Did you do paperwork for the wraith?” </p><p>Lambert winced. Aiden turned to look at him properly, eyes wide. </p><p>“Lambert, did you illegally hunt that wraith?” </p><p>“Wellllll… technically no,” Lambert said, and Aiden looked like he was about to strangle him. “Hey, no, I am in the clear on this. Eskel did the paperwork and got cleared for it, it was all mostly above board. I just. Didn’t mention that technically it was a bribe to get us the apartment.” </p><p>Aiden went to slap a hand over his face and then thought better of it, grimacing. He pulled out some napkins from the jockey box and started getting the worst of the muck off. “I can’t believe you.” </p><p>“Aiden, I would have killed a man to get you that apartment,” Lambert said, “and I don’t regret it for a second. We have the nicest bathroom I’ve ever seen.” </p><p>“You’re such a sap. Ugh, this car is going to have to be detailed, I think I’m dripping on the seats.” </p><p>Lambert was studiously not thinking about how incredibly gross he felt as he turned onto the inter-region and got up to speed, leaving Raverlin behind. “Aiden, I’m not entirely sure I’m keeping the seats at all, period, I might just have them completely replaced.” </p><p>“Leather?” Aiden asked, grimacing as he tossed the dirty napkins in the back. </p><p>“Absolutely not, cold leather seats are the fucking <em>worst</em>, and in the summer they burn you, ugh.” </p><p>Aiden leaned against the window, smiling. “Is this like Ikea? Your moral outrage about cheap pine furniture?” </p><p>“FUCK Ikea, man-” </p><p>Lambert took the offered bait and ran with it, and got a good five minutes into his rant before Aiden blessedly fell asleep against the window, and was snoring in seconds. Lambert took the time to call everyone and update them, leaving a voicemail for Dasha and speaking to Ashwood just long enough to reassure him that Aiden was safe and okay. </p><p>Calling Gaetan was a struggle, but he did it anyway. Gaetan picked up fast, with a breathless, “Hey, you found him?” </p><p>“I found him,” Lambert confirmed, keeping his voice down. “He was back in the theater he lived in for a while, and, fuck… there was a basilisk. He got his first monster kill today. I’ll let him tell you about it, but… you should be proud. He was poetry in motion.” </p><p>“Shit,” Gaetan breathed, and laughed. “He always has been. Fuck, he’s okay?” </p><p>“He’s okay. No real injuries at all, I’ve got some bruises and a small cut but we came out of it clean,” Lambert confirmed. “And we got cats, but that’s a whole different matter. I don’t think he’s going to have any energy to talk about fuck all tonight, but I told him you want to talk and I’ll try and have him call tomorrow. He’s sleeping right now, we’re on our way back.” </p><p>Gaetan muttered something that sounded like a prayer before clearing his throat. “Good. And. Thanks. For going after him.” </p><p>“Our vows never specified parting at death, and I wasn’t about to chance it,” Lambert said with grim good humor. “Talk to you soon.” </p><p>“Yeah,” Gaetan said, and hung up. </p><p>Lambert let Aiden rest all the way to the Regional Courthouse back in their little city and parked in the lot at the back of the building where a small steel door with a light coming from it sat. He gently shook Aiden awake, and Aiden started, blinking. </p><p>“Where… courthouse?” he asked muzzily. </p><p>“That’s right. We have to go tell the nice people about our basilisk.” </p><p>“I thought that was a tomorrow thing,” Aiden yawned. “They’re open?” </p><p>“It’s always open, they have to be. 24/7, 365,” Lambert explained, and hauled himself out of the car to get the still unsheathed swords from the back seat. “Alright. Come on, you have to witness this too.” </p><p>Aiden made a face, but picked up the crate of kittens to carry with him into the warmth as they went to the door. Lambert shoved it open, revealing a small room with a few wooden chairs, some magazines about six years out of date, and a counter with several massive filing cabinets and pigeonhole cabinets behind. A thin, weedy looking person reading a very cheap romance novel behind the pitted old counter, with a computer that looked to be nearly 20 years old and massive stacks of paper all around them. They looked up, and froze at the sight of Lambert in his full regalia, Aiden filthy and bloody beside him, and a milk crate of kittens and a mother cat. </p><p>“Uh,” they said blankly. “Can. Can I help you.” </p><p>Lambert took both swords and put them on the counter, fishing out his medallion to rest on his chest. “Lambert Wilkson, hunter registration code is 3569, here to report a basilisk killing.” </p><p>“Oh. Oh shit, that’s like. A lot. Okay.” The person, whose name plate read Samael Jans, hurried to the computer and grabbed an ancient looking phone. They typed with one hand on the keyboard and jabbed a button on the phone. Lambert waited, Aiden swaying into his side. “Hi, yeah, Carrie, I need you to come down and do a witnessing for me? Like. Real quick. Thanks.” They hung up and said, “That was 3369?” </p><p>“3569, I might still be registered under Lambert Wolksen because the system is shitty about updating and they misspelled it originally,” Lambert said on autopilot. </p><p>“Oh, nope, there you are, that’s Wilkson with one L and an O-N right?” </p><p>“Thats right.” </p><p>“Oh, Vesemir’s youngest?” </p><p>“Also right.” </p><p>“And your companion here?” </p><p>“My husband, Aiden Kett, that’s K-E-T-T, secondary witness and actor under my tutelage, per statute 825 paragraph 8 subsection’s B through K formally training under myself and Vesemir Wilkson registration code 2019 and under the extended purview of Rennes Montbatten registration code 2102 that’s Montbatten with no U and one E no I’s,” Lambert rattled off, well used to this spiel. </p><p>“Congratulations on your wedding.” </p><p>“Thanks, it was completely accidental and I love him,” Lambert said. Samael looked like they wanted to coo at him. “Oh and that’s A-I-D-E-N, not A-N.” </p><p>“Ah, shit, thank you.” </p><p>Samael kept typing, and the door opened again to reveal a small, round mage with rosy cheeks and fly away blond hair, who beamed at the both of them. “Oh my stars, Lambert, it’s been a decade, I doubt you even remember me, I used to see you and Vesemir all the time when he came in for topographical map updates! And who’s this lovely young man?” </p><p>“My husband,” Lambert said, grinning. “Aiden Kett. I remember you, don’t worry. You always had chocolates on your desk.” </p><p>“And you stole them without a lick of shame,” she laughed, and bustled over. “Ooh, kittens! How sweet, poor dears, I see you’re taking them home. Samael, dear, how are you now?” </p><p>“Not so bad, and yourself?” </p><p>“Perfectly lovely, can’t complain. Now, what are we witnessing for again?” </p><p>“Basilisk,” Samael said, and Carrie gasped. </p><p>“Gracious! Well then.” She lifted her hands. “Aiden, dear, have you ever been truth spelled before?” </p><p>Aiden shook his head, looking at her hands with wide eyes. “No.” </p><p>“It tickles a bit, but it won’t hurt,” she promised. “Lambert will do much of the talking, and then I’ll just verify with you that everything’s correct and you’ll be good to finish the paperwork and leave to take these babies home, okay?” </p><p>Aiden nodded, and Lambert grimaced as the spell washed over him. </p><p>“Lambert, go ahead, the spell’s recording,” Carrie said with a warm smile. </p><p>Lambert nodded and began, being sure to use his most careful, court-appropriate language. It had taken nearly five years for him to learn how to speak properly for the record, but he was damn good at it now, and it was a point of pride. </p><p>“Aiden Kett, my husband, left the house this evening at an unknown time, and after some searching I found him in the Royal Golden Theater in Raverlin, where I entered the building armed as a hunter and wearing my medallion for proof. I found him in the basement, where he told me that he was certain there was a creature there with us that had been stalking him. I was, and currently am, wearing Witcher Eye lenses to help see in the darkness, which was lucky as the creature was a basilisk that had made its home in the abandoned orchestra pit. A fight ensued. I gave Aiden Kett, who has been training in part under myself and under Vesemir Wilkson, swordmaster, my silver sword for additional defense. The fight concluded with Aiden taking the final blow and severing the spine. I removed the head for added safety, took 5 claws for proof of Aiden’s first kill, and removed both of us from the building, along with a family of cats that we found in the basement, for their safety.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Laying it out like that made the past nightmare of a day seem so trivial and insignificant. </p><p>Carrie gave him a very kind smile. “And you were unaware of the basilisk before entering?” </p><p>“I spoke to three youth outside the Royal Golden Theater who alerted me that there might be a creature inside. Aiden, who’s previously had experience with the theater, mentioned that at times before this he wondered if he had been stalked or followed. I feel now that likely he was not followed by the basilisk but something else that might have lived in the theater, which the basilisk overtook. The youths also mentioned that people have gone missing in the area, and I believe an examination of the theater may reveal possible bone fragments from those people,” Lambert said, keeping his voice level and crisp. He couldn’t think about Calvin, the kid who’d disappeared. He couldn’t. Not right now. </p><p>“Thank you, Lambert,” Carrie said, gentle. “Aiden, is there anything that you feel needed to be added, or anything incorrect about the account.” </p><p>“No,” Aiden said, and sniffled a little. “But I think there might also be a wraith in the upper balconies. I think someone might have been murdered in there, I could smell decaying flesh.” </p><p>Lambert turned to him, horrified. “What, really?” </p><p>“It’s a very distinct smell,” Aiden said meekly. “I have a good nose.”</p><p>“No, I know that, just- Fuck, love, I’m so sorry.” </p><p>Aiden gave him a tremulous smile, and the light faded from Carrie’s hands.</p><p>“Oh, you poor dears,” she said, clucking her tongue. “Let me see the swords so I can get samples from them while you fill out the paperwork and get a clean up crew sent out. Aiden, sweetling, set the kitties down and get off your feet, we have plastic chairs for a reason. They’re very easy to wipe down!” </p><p>Aiden gave her a grateful smile and collapsed in a chair as Lambert set to filling out the forms. Thankfully there wasn’t much to do, his and Aiden’s testimony immediately transposing to the pages and his information already listed. He added Oleander, Dragonfly, and Schrodinger’s names to the payment information, fishing out their numbers to jot down next to it, and handed it back just as Carrie finished with the swords. </p><p>“You’re good to go,” she chirped. “Be sure and clean those! Vesemir would have your head if you didn’t.” </p><p>“Oh, he’ll have my head anyway for this,” Lambert said, tapping his eyes. “I don’t have 10 grand for another pair. They were a gift from Rennes.” </p><p>“Oooh, good luck to you,” she chuckled. “Go take your man home, dear. And congratulations on your nuptials!” </p><p>Cats and Aiden were returned to the car, the swords put in the back seat still out of their sheaths, and Lambert took a deep breath, staring out the windshield with his hands on the wheel. One of the kittens mewled plaintively. </p><p>“Time to get cat supplies?” Aiden asked, grimacing. </p><p>“Time to get cat supplies,” Lambert sighed, and started the car. </p><p>The only place open so late- and it was verging on 2 AM, now, fuck - was the terrible harbinger of capitalist doom that called itself MassMart, and Lambert glared at the sign with unbridled fury at having to step foot inside before stomping through the door and acquiring a cart. It had been a long night and his morals were compromised, but the cats needed care and thus, shitty mass manufactured goods made in questionable conditions it would have to be. He managed two steps inside before he had to slam his eyes shut, hissing in pain at the shift in light. </p><p>“Your eyes?” Aiden asked, worried. </p><p>“Still too sensitive,” Lambert grunted, and let Aiden take his hand. </p><p>Lambert stumbled blindly along, clinging to Aiden’s hand until they could find some cheap sunglasses for him to wear. His eyes were tender in the brilliant fluorescents, and Aiden grinned when he peered in the wobbly mirror at the pair that Aiden had picked for him. </p><p>“Aviators?” he grumbled. “Really?” </p><p>“Really,” Aiden smirked, and dragged him back to the cat aisle. One call to a very sleep deprived Eskel later for a bit of advice, they had kitten food for both the kittens and mama, who would apparently need lots of added nutrition, a large number of clearance towels, litter, a litter pan, bowls, a huge soft bed, a hideaway nook thing with a bobble hanging down from it for her to hide in, dry cat shampoo, a crate, and a frankly ridiculous amount of toys. The cashier didn’t even blink as they went through the line, Lambert still crusted in dried blood and bending so his aviators could be scanned, and Lambert figured he’d probably seen more than enough shit in his life that two exhausted, filthy people buying cat supplies at 2 AM was just your average Friday night. </p><p>All of it was bundled into the car and back they went to the house, dragging it up the stairs and into the master bathroom, where they set up the beds and nest in a corner while the mama and kittens drank water from one of the bowls like they were dying for it. As soon as the bed was set up with a towel covering it, the mother and kittens found their way to the corner and immediately settled down, mama still purring up a storm. The babies settled in to eat, and Lambert groaned as exhaustion tugged at his limbs. The cats were still filthy but bathing was going to have to wait. They were in good condition, safe and warm, and that was going to have to do for now.</p><p>“Here, love,” Aiden said gently, and helped him pull off his gear. He then took the claws from their wrapping and set them out on a towel to dry out. Lambert’s hands were shaky with exhaustion, but he did his best to help, and he did as Vesemir had drilled into him and cleaned his swords before finally, finally sliding them back into their sheaths before going to put them in the closet. Their filthy clothes were put in an empty hamper to be dealt with later. Aiden had got the shower started, and it was steaming up when they both finally stepped inside. </p><p>Lambert’s legs shook as the grime sluiced off of him, and he scrubbed his hands through his hair as fast as he could. It wouldn’t be long before he’d need to sit down, or at least devour something to keep his energy up. Aiden caught his hands, kissing his knuckles before urging him to sit on the bench and carefully kneeling down to clean off his legs. Lambert leaned back against the wall and let him, not fighting the wash cloth gently stroking down the sweat and grime. </p><p>They said nothing as they cleaned up, mama cat and her babies watching them from the little bed they were sequestered away in, and when they left the room it was only after carefully petting all of the little heads. Mama was purring up a storm while starting to wash the children clean, and Aiden smiled at her before they turned off the light, leaving a nightlight plugged in, and shut the door. </p><p>Lambert wandered out buck ass naked to the kitchen and pulled out their deli meat, devouring about half of the honeyed ham he’d been planning to use for sandwiches for the next week, followed by two oranges, a banana, five different kind of granola bars, and an entire bottle of gatorade. This done and feeling much better he returned to the bedroom to find that Aiden had gone back into the bathroom to pet the cats. One of the kittens was now mostly clean, revealed to be an orange blob and fast asleep.</p><p>“Leave them be,” Lambert murmured when Aiden looked up at the sound of him, smiling. “They’ve had a long day too.”</p><p>“I love them already,” Aiden sighed, and carefully pet them a few more times as Lambert smeared disinfectant on the little cut on his cheek and taped some gauze over it just to be on the safe side. </p><p>At last they left, shutting the door again, and Aiden sighed. “I’m sorry about… all of this. I panicked. I’ve told you this. Fuck.” </p><p>“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Lambert said, pulling him in for a soft kiss before Aiden climbed onto the bed and sprawled out. </p><p>Aiden smiled up at him before closing his eyes, sighing as his muscles uncoiled and he slowly relaxed into the bed. He looked wonderfully comfortable, safe and whole, his body welcomed into Lambert’s bed. It was such a small, quiet thing, to see him slowly coming to rest, letting go of the strain of the world.</p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Lambert wanted to know every inch of him. He wanted to climb into his ribcage and stay there, safe and protected, wanted Aiden’s arms and mouth and the soft press of skin to know he was there, he was alive, he was safe.</p><p>“Aiden?” Lambert said, and Aiden cracked one eye open. Whatever he saw made him sit up, paying better attention. </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Lambert swallowed hard. “Uh. You know how I wanted to wait for the right time to fuck? Now. Now’s the right time.” </p><p>Aiden stared at him for a good thirty seconds before groaning and collapsing back into bed. “<em>Now</em>?” </p><p>“Now.” </p><p>Aiden let out a hysterical little giggle, and pressed his hands to his face. Lambert watched him, a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to Aiden laugh. At last Aiden pulled his hands from his face and opened his arms, beckoning. “Today has already been insane. Why not! It’s not like the eyes aren’t doing it for me- honestly, if you can get costume ones, we should. Look into that. Come here, darling- let’s get this marriage consummated.” </p><p>Lambert grinned, climbing onto the bed and straddling Aiden’s hips. “Won’t count.” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Lambert kissed him, long and slow, and Aiden looked a little dazed when he pulled away. “We were married in the light of the sun. Gotta fuck in sunlight too.” </p><p>“Love of mine,” Aiden said, hand coming to rest on Lambert’s waist, “if you want me to wake you up so I can lovingly take you on the chaise lounge just say.” </p><p>“I want to fuck now,” Lambert said primly. “And if you wake me up at dawn for anything except you coming home from someone else’s bed, I’m filing for divorce.” </p><p>Aiden laughed, reaching up to pull him down by the back of the neck and for a kiss. Lambert went easily, melting down to cover him and let Aiden move him as he wanted. </p><p>“This is going to be really fast,” Aiden mumbled, in between kisses. “Fuck, I’m so tired sweetheart, I think you might have to make do with my hand.” </p><p>“That is never going to just be <em>making do</em>,” Lambert said, bending to kiss down his neck. “No part of you is ever “just” anything. Whatever you give me is always enough.” </p><p>Aiden shuddered under him, and grabbed his head to pull him up and kiss him frantically. Lambert’s whole body rolled with the soft thrill of it. </p><p>“Marry me,” Aiden breathed against his mouth, starting to tremble like a leaf. “Marry me, you absolute bastard, you can’t just say things like that and expect me to hold on. Properly, this time, I want our family there, I want all of them to know it’s real, I want your ring on my finger and mine on yours and I don’t care if we do it by sunlight or moonlight or starlight, I want to marry you, I want the whole world to know you . Lambert, you absolute wonderful menace, I might not have 50 crowns to offer you now, but please, marry me?” </p><p>“Yes,” Lambert gasped, and that was all he repeated until the sun rose.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me, a fool: I will definitely finish this by the 25th so people don't have to wait for it.<br/>My health: BITCH YOU THOUGHT </p><p>I am very proud of this chapter. Thank you for your faith in me.</p><p>Edit 5/3/2021: look y'all school is hell, I will hopefully have an update soon</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments bring me great and abiding joy! Life is stressful, comments are free! Please feed your local starving author, they're doing their best. You can find me as Heronfem or kaer-cuan on tumblr, HeronVinn on twitter. Art and podfics welcome!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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